


Pack Instincts

by melliejellie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha used in the wolf sense not the ABO sense, F/M, Kyoutani is emotionally constipated, Non-Graphic Violence, T until the final chapter, actor!Yachi, bisexual!Yachi bc I refuse to believe supernatural beings would limit themselves for eternity, bodyguard!Kyoutani, but it's ok, like fighting and someone gets a cut, monster hunters threaten Yachi, secret good boy Kyoutani, secret hot werewolf Yachi, still a romance at its core, werewolf!Yachi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melliejellie/pseuds/melliejellie
Summary: Kyoutani's used to being an overly-aggressive problem in everyone's life, so the way his new client Yachi welcomes him like he's always been there surprises him. But that's hardly the biggest surprise with her.This fic is rated T in chapters 1-4, but E in chapter 5. I marked it in case you want to skip over it for any reason.
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 75
Kudos: 75





	1. “Send a strong but dumb one.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chrismisstress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrismisstress/gifts).



> For my dear friend chrismisstress, proving that fandom friends can become irl friends, especially when one of us (ahem me) accidentally butt dials that one time and then we start talking more.
> 
> Let's celebrate some rarepair love!!

_Prologue_

Iwaizumi rubs at his temples the moment Oikawa ends their conversation on his terms before Iwaizumi can get a word in. And his headache’s only going to get worse.

“Kyoutani, come in.”

When he started his bodyguard agency, he expected the clients to be the source of all his headaches, not the people he hired.

The bad-tempered blond enters with a bang as he slams the door shut behind him. He’s spitting fire after getting let go. Again. Iwaizumi watches his hands clench tighter at his sides.

Iwaizumi decides he doesn’t have the patience to deal with another one of Kyoutani’s outbursts. “Sit,” he orders, tossing the dossier across his desk. 

Kyoutani sits with a huff, the chair creaking as he settles into it with his arms folded tight across his chest.

“You have one last shot. She’s a drama actor. Been through six different agencies recently. She’s willing to pay a high rate and she’s the biggest client we’ve had request us so far. I’d send Oikawa but he’s doing well, _too well_ , with his new client, and she asked for someone strong. Since you’re currently without work—” He shoots him a look, trying very hard to send the message that this is Kyoutani’s last chance. “You’ll go and you will be _professional_ —”

“I’m always profe—”

“And _personable_.”

Kyoutani clicks his tongue and glances away. “That’s not important, I just need to—”

“It’s important if you want a steady paycheck. And given that you haven’t had one of those since I hired you,” Iwaizumi waits until he has Kyoutani’s attention again, “I suggest you say _yes sir, thank you sir_ and walk out my door. Here’s her file.”

Kyoutani waits a moment before he springs to action, grabbing the dossier and slamming the door again on his way out. Iwaizumi’s pictures rattle on the wall.

He sighs, but he smiles when he rereads his favorite part of the new bodyguard request.

“Send a strong but dumb one.”

Done and done.

***

Kyoutani bristles the moment he steps into the vast studio where the drama is being filmed. Everything about the celebrity world is so fake. He hates it. Down to these staged coffee shops and living rooms that don’t look like anything that exists in real life.

If he hadn’t made such a mess at his last bar bouncer job, maybe he wouldn’t have wrecked his reputation enough to land himself in this line of work.

Sneering, he scans the area for the woman who fits the description and picture in the dossier. He’s looking for someone petite and blonde haired. In her photo she was beaming, but Kyoutani knows better. These actor types are all the same. Adorable and bouncy on-screen. Monsters the moment the cameras stop rolling. This new one’s going to be the same.

In the midst of resetting for another take, he spots her. Yachi Hitoka is seated on a couch in a fake living room on the edge of her seat, hands balled up into tiny fists by her face. Her eyes are squeezed together and the second the cameras start rolling, she bursts out into an excitable gesture before acting embarrassed and hiding her face.

He watches her do the take over and over as the other actors try their lines different ways. Each time her reaction is the same, professionally perfect.

As she paints on that cute veneer thicker each time, Kyoutani eagerly awaits the opportunity to see what this one’s really like. She’s gone through six agencies in less than a year. She’s going to be a real piece of work.

When the director signals for a break, he indulges in one last heavy sigh before he walks over, Iwaizumi’s words in his mind.

Professional and _personable_.

A groan rumbles in his throat but he manages to suppress it as he gets nearer to his new detail.

“Pardon the interruption, Yachi-san, I was sent from Iwaizumi’s agency. I’m your new bodyguard.” _Personable._ He can practically see Iwaizumi’s expression in his mind’s eye. Kyoutani awkwardly stretches his lips into a smile.

Yachi turns and yelps when she sees him, her bright eyes wide. “Oh my goodness, so sorry. You surprised me.” She holds a hand to her chest. “Not that your appearance surprised me. More that I just scare easily when anyone’s around me. Not that you scare me. The piercings are a nice tough—touch, I mean. I am making an awful first impression, aren’t I?” She makes a low whining sound in her throat as her expression twists into one face after the next. “Starting over.” Yachi bows at the waist, her hands rigid by her sides and says loudly, “My name is Yachi Hitoka. Thank you. I am now in your care.”

Kyoutani silently blinks, his mind reeling to process the flurry of words that were just thrown into it. “Y—yeah. I’m Kyoutani Kentarou,” he stutters when she doesn’t immediately right herself but stays in the bow. He forces himself lower to match the gesture. “Thank you, too.”

At his comment, she pops back up with a grin. “You picked a great day to be here. Busy, busy, busy. I’ve got to run to makeup in the next,” she checks her phone, “oooh, only five minutes left. Let’s go.” Something sharp passes through her expression as she looks him up and down once, but that warm smile stays the same. “I’m short but I’m quick. Keep up, please.”

Kyoutani spends hours waiting for her to snap. In makeup, there’s a mixup that lands her ten minutes behind schedule, but instead of flying off into a rage, Yachi sits in her chair patiently. In fact, she’s the one that keeps apologizing to the artists for requiring special makeup for her sensitive skin.

Could still be part of the act, he decides.

Then the shooting day is extended by two hours and, after making a lighthearted joke about how tired her feet are, Yachi spins on her heels and beams at the crew, thanking them for sticking around all day, too, to make this show happen.

That has to be fake. Kyoutani rolls his eyes.

Later in the evening, Yachi’s co-star is clearly in a sour mood. When she mixes up her lines during a take he snaps at her. But instead of yelling back, Yachi folds into herself, nodding quickly while she mumbles apologies.

Kyoutani feels himself taking a step forward. The co-star quickly grimaces his way through an apology and they continue. Rooted in place, Kyoutani’s stunned.

But there’s still time.

At the end of the shooting day, Yachi catches more flack from her co-star about memorizing the edits faster and she shuffles off in Kyoutani’s direction without anything besides more quiet apologies.

“They’ve called a car for me,” she says when she sees him, her voice thin and her face visibly tired. “My last bodyguard walked me to my door each night and checked my apartment. Will you be doing the same?”

Kyoutani nods brusquely, “Yes, ma’am.”

Yachi smiles up at him, but her shoulders are still slumped. She sighs. “Guess I gotta remember my lines better for tomorrow.”

She starts to fold in on herself. It starts with those shoulders, then it rolls through her whole body. She’s already small, but it’s as though she’s trying to become smaller.

“I think it looked good. The scene. It. You did good. A good job.”

Yachi’s smile grows until a laugh escapes her lips. “Thank you, Kyoutani-san.” She sighs again but it’s lighter. “If I’m honest, he’s the one who didn’t look at the most recent edits.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him off?” Kyoutani asks, baffled.

Yachi laughs. “I could never!” She shouts, like the very idea is insane. Her attention lands on her phone and she angles it so Kyoutani can see the screen, too. “I’m ordering take out because I haven’t eaten in hours.” Kyoutani watches as a series of burger joints scroll past on her phone. “Would you care for anything?”

“No, ma’am. I eat when my workday is done.”

“That’s silly.” Her bright smile makes his stomach feel weird. “You’ve been here all day, too. You like burgers? I like the triple cheeseburger from this place. Have you tried it?”

Kyoutani’s brows furrow as he realizes that he maybe has nothing at all figured out about this one.

The walk out to the hired car is short but lined with paparazzi. Yachi’s still working on her ever-growing order when amongst the shouts he hears one of them ask very clearly, “Yacchan! Care to comment on your ex’s recent success? Her drama is higher up in the rankings than yours. Have anything to say?”

Beside him, Yachi stoops her shoulders and dips her head, pressing her phone against her chest.

“She’s been spotted around the city with a new flame. Some say their relationship started when you two were still dating. I know you have something to say about that!”

She folds impossibly smaller into herself.

Kyoutani jumps into action, squaring his shoulders and walking towards the fool who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.

_Professional._

“I’m going to need you to leave Yachi-san alone.”

“You’re nobody,” the stranger scoffs. “And you have about three seconds to get out of my face before I—”

Kyoutani’s fists clench, he grits his teeth. “And you’re an asshole with no manners. You better disappear into that crowd now or you’ll see exactly why I’ve been fired for being too unpredictable and aggressive at the last five jobs I’ve had.” He grabs a handful of the man’s shirt and yanks him closer with a growl.

He lunges his face closer and the man stumbles out of his hold and backwards into the crowd. As Kyoutani takes in the shocked looks of the others around him, worry rushes into his gut. He spins back to Yachi, expecting to find her looking just as shocked, another firing imminent.

But she surprises him again. Inside the car, she’s looking at him with a pleased expression. As he steps towards the open car door, her gaze trails down his body.

“Oh, you’ll do perfectly.”

***

Kyoutani jolts awake on his couch. An alarm blares, reminding him of Yachi’s early call time this morning. Over the past three weeks, he’s settled into his new routine.

Every night at 11:00, Yachi’s manager sends him her schedule before he passes out on his couch that’s better than his uncomfortable mattress.

Every morning, he steps into clean trousers and a clean, ironed button-down because Iwaizumi insists. On the way out the door, he casts a side glance at his worn denim jacket and grabs it, slipping it on in an act of secret defiance. Besides, Yachi-san said it was “cool” last week. If his client approves, then Iwaizumi can suck it.

But if his boss ever shows up on set, Kyoutani is going to throw it to the ground and act like he’s never seen it before.

Jumping down the creaky steps two or three at a time, he lands at the vending machine outside his apartment and buys two cans of the same black coffee he gets every morning. It’s not good, but it’s good enough.

He takes the bus to Yachi’s posh neighborhood. It stops several blocks short of his destination, probably because rich people have no need for buses, so he squares his shoulders and walks like he’s meant to be there. Because he is, damnit. All those eyes that stare at him each morning and evening can mind their own business.

Slamming back his second coffee, he shoots a look at a man serving him serious side-eye.

He arrives at Yachi’s enviously located, swanky apartment building with the glistening floors and gold accents on the lobby doors. The doorman lets him in after checking his ID like he does _every single day._ Kyoutani tries not to growl at the man who clearly recognizes him but insists on the routine anyway.

Up the elevator to the 18th floor where he waits outside her door until she tumbles out, her eyes wide because—

“I’m so late!” Yachi bursts through her front door, a day's worth of snacks, extra clothes, and anything else she wants to bring with her hanging in bags on her shoulders.

With big steps, he keeps up after her as she darts towards the elevator, fussing over the rough start to her day.

“—and today’s a long shooting day, too. They reworked the schedule to accommodate for my time off and everyone’s gonna think I don’t care about other people shifting their schedules for me, but really I just spent too long staring at an empty pan before making breakfast this morning because my brain wasn’t on yet—the mornings really are terrible for me, quite the perpetual night owl—and then I couldn’t find—”

He nods along as she rambles in the elevator, knowing by now that she’ll work it out of her system this way and come out on the other side a much calmer version of herself.

Yachi is nothing like he expected. She’s genuinely kind and regularly orders him food when she gets take-out for herself, though the amount of food she packs away into her tiny frame never ceases to surprise him. Last week he saw her throw back two steaks when they ordered dinner on-set for a late night of shooting. He was thoroughly impressed—and confused as he finished his one steak and already felt full.

She’s encouraging, but hard on herself. Yachi regularly compliments her co-stars and tells them very specific things they’re doing wonderfully. She’ll tell Kyoutani that he’s the best bodyguard she’s had in years when he keeps the paparazzi off her back. But then she’ll sit in the car, staring at a take-out box full of fries and list every single thing she did wrong during filming that day.

She’s clever and confident, but prone to sudden surges of anxiety-driven thoughts. Yachi knows she’s talented, and acts her way through a scene with that in mind, but give her a second off-set and she’s spiraling down into worry over whether or not others see her as arrogant or foolish.

She’s professional, but always a little bit late. Kyoutani actually finds this to be a bit endearing. He’s had other clients that were always late, but they did it with an air of “I don’t care if I inconvenience others.” Yachi, though, is always thinking of others, she just can’t seem to make it through her morning routine on time when she sleeps in every morning.

The elevator doors open on the ground floor and Yachi shudders out a deep breath, coming back to herself. Out the corner of his eye, he looks for it—the half a second in between her nervousness and her bright smile she wears everyday where her face is etched with a fierce determination.

She’s sweet but he knows there’s something else behind her bright features. He sees it in moments like this when she thinks no one is looking. Her eyes seem sharper, her expression more serious, like she’s readying herself to take on the world.

Throughout the day, his job is hard to complain about. On set, there’s not much to do. He keeps an eye on doors and stays alert, minding Yachi’s surroundings at all times. The only time it’s frustrating is when they’re walking outdoors, when the worst types of people crowd along the sidewalk, pushing away real fans so they can try to get a rise out of her.

Yachi never takes the bait.

Kyoutani does, though. When a comment goes too far, he feels his hackles raise and he lunges towards the offender. He’s never thrown a fist, but he’s not had to. His presence seems to carry enough of a threat as it is. An article described Yachi’s new “handler” as a “menace.”

Yachi laughed and suggested it was a moniker he should wear proudly, then she thanked him.

Kyoutani looked out the window, unable to meet her gaze, and saved the article on his phone.

Ever since then she’s stopped folding into herself as often. Though she’s small, she walks outside, squares her shoulders just like Kyoutani, and marches right for the car doors.

That night, they make it through the line of paparazzi without any major incidents and they settle in the car, Yachi bouncing in anticipation of the meal they’re about to swing by and pick up.

“—and it’s close to my house which is a _must_ because you can’t have steaks going cold now, can you?”

“No, ma’am. Couldn’t they deliver it to you, though? I’m sure they would offer that to you.”

Yachi laughs. “Yeah, but then I couldn’t eat the steak fries in the car!” She waits a beat, studying his face before she adds, “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m suddenly going out of town during filming? I’ve given you nothing but extremely vague details. And it’s pretty weird that I told your agency that I didn’t need you to come, isn’t it?”

Kyoutani feels like he’s being tested. “No, ma’am. It’s your business.”

Her eyes narrow, a sudden smirk on lips. “Everyone else always pried.”

“S’rude,” he says quickly, before looking up to see if he needs to backtrack on his honesty.

Yachi seems pleased. “It _is_ rude. I agree. See, I knew you’d fit into my life just fine.”

He again finds he can’t seem to look her in the eyes and glances out of the tinted windows even though he can’t see anything but darkness beyond them.

***

The few days that she’s gone “on a retreat,” Kyoutani enjoys the time off-duty but finds he misses the late-night food shovelling in the car. And her frazzled mornings. And the way she includes him in her conversations and every coffee order her assistant runs for her.

Every other job he was a muscled fly on the wall, but Yachi actively pulls him into her day.

He spends those few days at the agency helping Iwaizumi.

“Your new client doesn’t seem to hate you,” is all he offers by way of encouragement.

Oikawa is even worse. He drapes himself over Iwaizumi’s broad shoulders and adds with a wink, “The mad dog must be on his best behavior.” He coos like someone would with a small puppy, “Who’s a good boy?”

Kyoutani surges in his direction, fists clenched, but Iwaizumi stops him with a look.

“Enough. Both of you.”

In the past, the second Iwaizumi turned around, Kyoutani would have slugged that smirk off OIkawa’s face, but today he rolls his eyes and turns to leave. The shock on Oikawa’s face at not getting a rise out of him was truly worth it.

As he exits the office, he wonders why he didn’t feel like punching his least favorite co-worker today. And also why he doesn’t need to stifle the urge to growl at the man at the bus stop who’s eyeing him.

Odd.

He checks his phone to have something to do. There’s a calendar notification. Yachi’s back tomorrow. He jumps over the first step into the bus, a little extra bounce in his step.

***

“You don’t always have to buy me food, you know,” Kyoutani adds gruffly in the car back to Yachi’s apartment. His arms are crossed over his chest and he keeps glancing between Yachi and the shaded view out the tinted windows.

She’s back from her trip, looking a bit tired but her smile is as bright as ever as she practically drools over her phone screen while scanning the menu for the restaurant she’s insisted on tonight at the end of her packed day of shooting.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. And it’s the 29th so all the meat dishes are discounted! The Korean Beef is my favorite.” She passes him her phone so he can tap on the things he’d like to order. He never gets much. Just one or two items, tops. “Don’t you ever just do something for someone because you want to?”

Kyoutani glances up from her screen, one eyebrow raised.

“Like for friends?” She offers.

He clicks on what he wants and hands her phone back, crossing his arms over his chest as he tilts his chin up. “Don’t have many of those.”

“Oh no,” she says sharply, dropping her phone on her lap and giving him the full attention of her wide, worried eyes. “I’ve put my foot in my mouth again. Sorry if I brought up anything bad. Not that not having friends is bad. I mean, it is. Maybe. If you want them. But everyone can live their own way, right? And you seem perfectly fine, Kyoutani-san. Not like bad fine, good fine. Fine. Good. Did you put your order in?”

It takes him a moment to process the question at the end. “Uh, yeah.”

Yachi breathes a quick sigh of relief. “I’ll send it in then. We’ll still have to wait a bit in the car, though. This place can be slow, but it’s worth the wait.”

Yachi falls into a heavily silence while she stares at her lap.

When she speaks again, her voice is quiet. “I don’t have many friends now either. The schedule doesn’t help, but some things happened in the past that put some distance between my friends and I. Nothing bad! Not good either, just—” She looks up at him, her eyes watery in the dim street light that passes through the dark windows. “Life happened, I guess. I still see them, but not as much as before. And it’s… things are different now. So maybe—” Yachi twists her hands together where they rest on her legs. “Maybe I don’t know _exactly_ how you feel, but I do, perhaps, a little.”

The admission stuns him. No one he’s ever worked for—scratch that—no one he’s ever met has been as genuinely kind as Yachi. To him. To Kyoutani.

Sure, she’s a bit erratic sometimes, but that’s part of what he appreciates about her as a client. She seems authentic, real. Like she wears everything about herself on her sleeve, both the secret confidence and the ceaseless worry.

Why wouldn’t she have friends?

But in the weeks they’ve worked together, he’s never once had the car drop her off at a friend’s place or to a party. She eats in the car with him in the evenings before taking the rest back up to her apartment and she eats lunch on set most days.

If this is a world where no one is friends with Yachi Hitoka, then Kyoutani decides he’s even more justified in continuing to hate the entire place.

***

With arms crossed and brows knitted Kyoutani stands still as stone outside the door while Yachi changes in her dressing room. It’s the end of the day and she’s gathering her things so they can order food and head back to her house.

His stomach grumbles. It’s an automatic response now. For weeks now he’s been eating from Yachi’s favorite places and it’s the best he’s eaten in years. None of the places are fancy. Far from it. They’re little places, tucked in between drugstores and old bookstores. For as little as she goes out, Yachi seems to know the area like the back of her hand.

The door cracks open. He expects a barrage of Yachi’s thoughts like he usually gets, but instead he’s greeted by silence. His attention snaps to her.

She’s as white as a ghost.

“Y—Yachi-san, is something wrong?”

Yachi bites her lip and is slow to shake her head “no.”

She takes a small step forward but Kyoutani stands in front of her, looking into the room. He peers inside, knowing he swept the room before she entered, but he must have missed something. Or maybe she got some bad news on her phone.

He asks again, “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“No, no.” She shakes her head again and gives him a weary smile. “Just tired.” She reaches out and pats his arm.

He knows she’s lying, but the moment her hand touches his skin, all the fight instinct drains from his body. His shoulders slump. He sighs. “So, dinner?” He suggests because that always seems to brighten her mood and it kind of, well, sucks to see her like this.

She gives his arm a quick squeeze, a silent show of gratitude, and nods. “Dinner,” she replies softly with none of her usual exuberance.

On the car ride home, Yachi doesn’t even open any of her take-out boxes.

Without saying much, she trails behind him as he checks her apartment. With his own food box in hand, he stands in her doorway, mouth open but no words coming out. He wants to reassure her. Say something kind.

Kyoutani isn’t well-versed in kindness.

“Have a good night, ma’am,” he mutters. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Yachi smiles at him from her living room where she’s slowly unpacking food on her coffee table in front of the TV. “See you in the morning, Kyoutani. I promise I’ll be ready on time.”

“If you’re not that’s okay, too.”

She puffs out a laugh and he’s surprised by the sound, but glad to see her smile widening. “Then, more of the same tomorrow, I guess.”

***

Kyoutani tells himself that he watches Yachi closely because it’s his job, but even he knows there’s something else. He labels it as worry. Yachi hasn’t been the same since that one night a few days ago.

She’s jumpier. A little shorter with her patience. And much quieter than he’s ever heard her be.

So when, in between takes, she’s actually talking, he keeps in step beside her, nodding along and listening intently because he doesn’t know when this mood might fade again.

“—and the outfits were just divine, don’t you think? I mean, look at this thing!” Yachi stops short and spins on her heel beside him, holding out part of the knee-length dress she wore as a bridesmaid in a wedding scene.

He looks.

Kyoutani really looks.

He swallows hard and has to glance away.

“The stitching is incredible. And the silver accents. What a smart choice! The way it shimmers, oh, I just know the cameras will have picked it up so well. The fans are going to love it. What a storybook scene that whole shoot today was. I adored it.” She starts walking again, her hand reaching out as she nears her dressing room.

“And could you believe the vows? They kept that a secret from the entire rest of the cast. My tears, Kyoutani, they were real!” She laughs and he brightens at the sound, realizing it’s the first he’s heard it in some time.

She opens her dressing room, still talking, “I was stunned. I mean, I thought it was going to be beautiful, after all it’s such a pivotal moment in the series, but still.”

As she walks into her room, chatting away, Kyoutani’s not sure if he should follow or not. He’s not ever been inside when Yachi was, too, but she also managed to squeeze in there before he could thoroughly check around the room for anything out of the ordinary. He slips in behind her, eyes darting around the room to check for anything suspicious while he nods along.

Yachi sighs happily, “I could reshoot those scenes forever and not get tired of it. And I—” she cuts herself off and Kyoutani spins to see why, to see if she’s seen something that’s been the cause of her recent moods—

And is met with Yachi’s bare back as she slips off the dress, still talking like nothing is happening. But _everything_ is happening.

Kyoutani spins to face the opposite wall, heart thundering in his chest. He can’t process what she’s saying anymore, so he just nods along and lets a high-pitched hum of acknowledgement squeeze out from his tight throat.

It’s when his eyes are desperately searching for anything to stare at that isn’t Yachi’s body that he notices a crumpled paper beside one of Yachi’s large bags. Usually, an entirely unremarkable thing, but the thick, red permanent marker seeping through catches his eye. He hasn’t been a bodyguard long, but long enough to get his hackles raised over small details. It’s his job to be suspicious, to prevent problems before they arise and deal with them swiftly. He’s been on edge ever since Yachi got quieter and his gut tells him to see this through.

Without moving, he casts a glance towards her wastebasket and the space around her other bags. They’re small, ripped up, but present: strips of paper with similar thick, red marker. 

But invasion of privacy is still a thing. He waits until her voice peeters out, then asks as casually as he can, still feeling an unfamiliar heat on his cheeks, “You haven’t received anything out of the ordinary recently, have you?”

He hears her inhale sharply behind him.

“No, why?” She laughs weakly through her response.

Kyoutani turns away from the wall, trying to work his face into an expression that is closer to concern than intimidating, but he never was one to have the right face for an occasion. “And if you had, you’d tell me, right, Yachi-san?”

She nods, but he watches her throat swallow around unsaid worries. It tells him what he needs to know.

“C—come on, I have to be back on set.” She makes a hesitant step towards the door.

Kyoutani takes a big step step to be in her view. She still has a clear exit path towards the door, but he’s made his presence, the seriousness with which he is going to handle the situation known.

“I can only help with things I know about,” he says, feeling that his brows are knitted too strongly, his lips pulled in a tight, thin line, but he’s not sure how to soften them.

Yachi’s expression changes as thoughts seem to swirl in her head. He watches the way her jaw tightens, her hands subtly starting to curl into fists at her sides.

Her head whips around to stare him directly in the eyes. There’s a ferociousness there that he’s not yet seen before, her light brown eyes narrowing as they take on a sharp, golden hue. “I told you, there hasn’t been anything.”

Then she turns on her heel, steps out into the hallway, and slams the door behind her so hard that all her framed pictures rattle on the walls.

For a second before he follows after her, he stands there, stunned to silence.

That was new.

***

All day, Kyoutani is on high alert. He has nothing to go to the authorities with, so for now he’s on his own facing some unknown threat. He knows it's real. It has to be. It could explain a lot about the marked changes in Yachi’s personality over the past few days. He’s seen this shit before with other clients, usually with angry exes.

At the end of the shooting day, he gently but forcefully shoulders past Yachi as she tries to edge her way into her dressing room ahead of him.

“My job is to keep you safe,” he says, one hand on the doorknob as he stares down at her.

“Fine.” Her grin is sharp, a bite in her tone. “Be my guest, Kyoutani-san.”

He swings the door open with more strength than he needed, and sure enough, among the mess on her vanity, there’s a paper note with neat, thick red marker etched across the surface of a torn out sheet of notebook paper. Even from a distance he can read it.

_We know what you are. We are coming._

“Do you know who’s threatening you?” He demands as he takes the few steps into the room and grabs the paper as he turns to face her, cutting straight to the point.

“It’s nothing,” she bites back, shutting the door swiftly behind her and pulling the paper from between his fingers. Though she’s shorter, by a lot, she stares up at him with a strong-willed gaze. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

Kyoutani’s never been one to back down from a fight. He takes a step closer, his hand on the other end of the paper. “I must do my _job_ , ma’am.”

“Surely your _job_ doesn't cover personal affairs.”

Kyoutani can’t imagine what personal affairs would warrant a letter like this. He’s seen his fair share of “I’ve caught you cheating" letters in his line of work, but nothing this vaguely ominous.

“It covers anything that harms you or could potentially harm you. If I need to contact the authorities then—”

“No!” She rips the paper from his hand and balls it up in her fist, gritting her teeth as her eyes grow narrower, sharper. “I’m handling it.”

“This isn’t something to handle alo—”

“I’ve always had to do it alone! Why stop now?” She yells, exiting her dressing room and briskly walking down the hallway away from him and the whole situation.

Once he recovers from the shock of seeing this side of her again, he follows. Rather than by her side, though, he remains at a distance. He wants to give her space, but he also wants to keep a wider view of the area around her.

When he’s closer, when he’s pulled into her orbit, he becomes too close to the situation to see things clearly. He needs to watch. He needs to be ready.

***

The entire drive back to Yachi’s home, she doesn’t say a word to him. She doesn’t order food for him or for herself. They sit there in a charged silence. Kyoutani’s weary down to his bones from being on alert all afternoon, but he keeps himself going through willpower alone.

The walk to her door is no different. She unlocks it and waves him inside to do his usual check. Her face is still pinched in a cross expression.

He doesn’t make it but a few steps before he sees them—similar notes placed in every room of Yachi’s home. On her coffee table. On her kitchen counter. On her dining room table.

Kyoutani hears a small gasp behind him, then Yachi’s hand is brushing against his own.

“They’re in my home,” she whispers, barely audible.

He feels the back of her hand brush against his as she steps closer to him.

Together in her entryway, they’re silent for a long moment. Kyoutani narrows his eyes, darting them around the room as he listens for any unusual sounds. Finding none, he loosens his shoulders a little until Yachi breaks the silence, another broken whisper on her lips.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. Kyoutani—” She falters for a beat. “You don’t have to, absolutely don’t feel pressured, but can you stay here tonight?” Yachi asks with a shaking voice. She’s still in the doorway, staring at her feet. “I know it’s not a part of your job description, but—”

“It is. Of course it is,” he replies with certainty, turning back towards the door where Yachi stands, framed in the light from the hallway. He wants so badly to say something else, to have the right words in this moment to make her smile again, or at least to know that he’ll keep her safe. But nothing comes. For now he stares at her, the need to be there for her with a steady compass guiding his instincts.


	2. “I’m not leaving.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoutani learns Yachi's secret (and we get some friendly Karasuno cameos).

Kyoutani texts Iwaizumi to let him know he won’t be checking in with the agency after his shift tonight and briefly, without unnecessary details, explains the situation. His boss’ response is immediate.

_ Iwaizumi>> Do not have sex with your client, Kyoutani. _

He reads the words on his screen and hammers out a response.

__ << I would never  
<< Has never crossed my mind  
<< Just doing my job.

He makes sure to add a period and hits send with righteous fury in his veins. Then his phone buzzes again.

_ Trashykawa>> oh ho hooooo, get it mad dog-chan _

Kyoutani doesn’t dignify that with a response.

Slamming his phone face down onto the couch in Yachi’s living room, Kyoutani’s chest heaves with the effort of restraining his anger. First, that Iwaizumi would even assume such a thing. Second that the two of them were clearly together right now and were far more shameless with their choices than he ever could be. It all piles on top of his already boiling blood over the fact that someone wants to harm Yachi.

And they’re wrong. He’s never once thought of Yachi that way.

She’s just a good client. Yachi’s kind to him. She buys him dinner and coffee. She asks him how his day was, even though they spent it together. He’s here because it’s his job and she’s potentially in danger. And he likes her because she’s kind and that’s it.

Not a lot of people are kind to Kyoutani.

Who cares, anyway? The world is filled with people who would threaten Yachi, of all people, so it’s a garbage place to live. He doesn’t care about other people and their fake kindness or their outright disapproval of him.

Yachi’s kindness isn’t fake. And she needs his help.

He sits up straighter, his hands palm-down on his thighs, and he continues to listen for sounds in her apartment. All he hears, though, are the sounds of Yachi in her ensuite bathroom getting ready for bed. A few minutes ago, thinking only of security, he started to ask her to leave the door open so he could better hear throughout her entire home, but he quickly snapped his lips shut and covered that suggestion by clearing his throat. A bedroom is a private place. Yachi’s bedroom is—

Anyway, he could listen fine, just fine out here in her living room with her bedroom door closed.

The couch is comfortable but there’s no chance of sleeping. His instincts have kicked in and there’s little he can do to turn off the honed senses that are picking up on every little thing right now.

He’s awake, alert, and he’s trying, really trying, to not imagine what Yachi is doing in her room as the sounds continue to filter past her door.

Yachi is still insisting on no authorities, but that doesn’t stop Kyoutani from wanting to try. He’ll ask again in the morning once they’ve made it through whatever the next few hours will hold. It’s going to be a long night.

He settles on the edge of one of the cushions, back straight, hands drumming on his thighs.

Yachi’s door cracks open. He’s not sure why, but Kyoutani looks in the complete opposite direction. Moments pass before he hears movement again, and when he does it’s the soft sound of socks shuffling on her hardwood floors.

“Kyoutani-san?”

“Yes, ma’am?” He replies, still not looking, his voice thinner than he expected it to be. He’s not sure what he’d see but everything about being in her home is so personal already, he doesn’t want to do anything he shouldn’t. Not that he shouldn’t look. He looks at her all the time.

This feels different.

“I usually sleep with my door cracked. I don’t think I’m sleeping much tonight anyway, but it’s habit, and I know you’re sleeping on the couch, which I am grateful for—for you—staying here,” Yachi makes a frustrated sound in her throat. “Anyway, I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but I will leave it cracked as I try to sleep because I don’t—” She sighs heavily and the sound makes Kyoutani’s shoulders sink. “I don’t want to be alone if I don’t have to be.”

“It’s—it’s your home,” he stammers, robotically trying to turn his body to face her while they talk. His body refuses to behave like it normally would. “You can do what you want.” It comes out sharper than he intended and he can’t bring himself to look at Yachi’s face, but he hears a sharp intake of breath.

“I mean—” He crosses his arms, searching for better words to say, gentler, kinder ones. He knows he’s waiting too long, that the silence is stretching into an uncomfortable place. He glances up and blurts, tone rougher than he wants, “I’m here. So you’re not alone then, are you?”

He hears Yachi hum quietly, mostly to herself. “Mm, guess I’m not.” She looks at him for a long while more, her face unreadable, but his skin flares as though he can feel where her eyes have landed. “Good night, Kyoutani.”

“Good night, Yachi-san.” He nods his head curtly. He’s seen her in every sort of fancy outfit under the sun over the course of filming, but now she’s wearing loose, grey sweats that look well-worn and her hair’s pulled back in a messy ponytail.

It was a mistake to look. He knows that now because he feels something hot in his chest that he’s not sure what to do with.

“I’ll be here.” He nods again, looking away. “So you don’t have to worry.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, and then disappears into the darkness of her bedroom.

***

Kyoutani catches himself dozing when he hears a loud crash and several smaller ones in rapid succession from Yachi’s bedroom. He jumps to his feet, dashing to her door in time to bang it open with his shoulder and burst in, fists raised and ready.

Two yellowed eyes greet him in the dark. A snarl. A low growl.

He has no idea what to think. He sees a smashed in window and the shards of light passing through. And there’s an animal, some huge animal in Yachi’s room. His heart is beating frantically in his chest and he’s not sure what action to take first, but instinct wins over his mind, the need to silence the threat first, and he lunches at the mess of tangled fur he can barely see.

With teeth grit and arms spread wide, he jumps into action, his body tense, ready to subdue the threat at first contact—

Only for the dark shape in front of him to morph and mold into something new. When his body makes contact, he’s met with soft skin and a small frame within his arms.

He balks at the touch, so confused his mind and body are both frozen.

“Kyoutani! Get back!” It’s Yachi’s voice, but it doesn’t sound quite the same. It’s gravelly and deep, but unmistakably hers.

“Yachi?”

“I said get back!” This time the words are matched with a hard shove against his chest that knocks the air from his lungs. He stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall. “I still can’t control it well! You have to get out of here before I—”

There’s crackling sounds at the window. Kyoutani’s attention flies to the pile of smashed glass to see, impossibly, two sets of feet on her windowsill. Fists at the ready again, he follows the legs to see two--men, just men, regular men perched on her windowsill like Yachi doesn’t live too high up for this to be real.

Still confused, he moves forward as his muscles take over for his shut down brain. “Who the hell are you?” He shouts.

One of the men, the taller one, clicks his tongue, his glasses flashing in the moonlight pouring in through the broken window. “I should ask the same of you. Who are you and why are you in Yachi’s home?”

“Yeah!” The smaller one leaps onto her carpet, apparently unfazed by the shards of glass he lands on. “We smelled Yacchan’s blood and came in here to find  _ you _ .” Impossibly fast, that small body is under Kyoutani’s chin, another set of yellow eyes glaring up at him underneath a mop of bright, orange hair. He growls, “What did you do to her?”

Kyoutani’s stunned still. He didn’t even see him move.

“It’s fine. Guys, it’s fine,” Yachi replies, her voice is still strange.

The taller man steps off the ledge and into the room. “Then what happened here?” His flat expression gives little away, but his tone is thick with concern.

The shorter one darts away in humanly quickly and Kyoutani’s jaw goes slack, wondering if he actually fell asleep on the couch and this is all some weird stress dream.

“It wasn’t him. He’s my bodyguard. I have a good enough idea of who did this, though. They—” she makes a pained, strangled sound in the back of her throat.

Kyoutani turns towards her, ready to help, but the taller man grabs him by the back of his shirt. Kyoutani has no idea when he moved behind him.

The shorter man rushes towards Yachi’s side and kneels next to her. In the shards of moonlight,, Kyoutani can see blood. The second he registers that fact, he can smell it, too, thick and metallic in the air. He has no idea how he missed that at first.

Kyoutani tries to lunge out of the taller man’s grip, but he’s held firmly in place.

“I know Yachi said you’re fine, but I don’t have to trust you yet. Stay still, little human.”

“Don’t antagonize him, Tsukishima. He’s only been good,” she winces, “to me.”

The man, some Tsukishima apparently, lets go and Kyoutani falls forward a step, ready to push past the orange-haired man to help, but he’s again frozen in place as he watches the wound on Yachi’s arm slowly close, like it’s being stitched together by some unseen hand. “Wh—wha—”

“Your bodyguard’s broken,” Tsukishima comments, his tone dripping with delighted sarcasm.

“He doesn’t know?” The shorter one’s eyes snap between Kyoutani and Yachi who is now looking more like herself, spare the slowly-closing gash in her arm. Her eyes no longer have that golden hue and Kyoutani, honestly, isn’t sure what is real anymore.

“No,” she answers sharply. “I don’t go around—” She makes a pained sound again, her hand coming over to hold the arm with the wound. “—telling people anymore.”

“You can tell some humans! Like, you remember, when we had our—”

“Hinata. No.” She tilts her head up and Kyoutani sees the yellow in her eyes again.

“Sorry.” The bouncy one, Hinata, seems to bow his head in front of her. “You do what you need to do, Yachi.”

“We know you can take care of yourself,” Tsukishima says, suddenly by the window again, “but when we smell the blood of our own, especially yours, it’d be wrong not to check on you.”

“Thank you,” Yachi says, standing carefully, a light limp in her step. She takes her hand off the wound, now nearly gone, and squares her small, but powerful shoulders as she stands up straight. “I  _ can _ hold my own, as you two know. Nothing happened here, not really. Two silver-tipped arrows. I dodged both, but the end of the second one nicked my arm.” She grins slightly. “Out of practice.”

“Was it—?” Hinata asks, voice trailing off.

“Yes, I’m almost positive,” Yachi replies with finality. “I’ve been getting notes. Feels like them.”

“We’re going to have to tell Daichi,” Tsukishima adds.

“I know, just when you tell him, don’t—”

“What is going on here?” Kyoutani interrupts Yachi with a shout, finally finding his voice and the ability to move again. He throws his arms wide. “What is happening? Who are you both?  _ What _ are you? Yachi-san, what is—who is—?”

“Should we leave you to it, then?” Tsukishima asks, casting a side glance at Kyoutani.

“I’ve handled it on my own before.”

“We know, but Yachi—” Hinata interjects with worry.

“Don’t. Hinata, please. It’s sweet, but it only makes it harder.” As her words sink into the air, the three of them all seem to fall in on themselves, shoulders dropping, heads bowed. Yachi’s the first to try to crack a smile. She ruffles Hinata’s hair as he leans into it, like a puppy. “I better not catch you two standing guard later.”

“We won’t!” Hinata replies.

“You won’t _catch_ _us_ ,” Tsukishima modifies their agreement.

As they talk, Kyoutani’s eyes don’t know where to focus. It’s all so quick, so familiar, so casual when nothing about any of this makes sense. There’s shared hugs, goodbyes with bittersweet smiles, and then the two men  _ leap out the window _ and Kyoutani’s head is a whirlwind of half-formed thoughts. He stands there, stuttering around sounds he can’t form into words.

The wound on Yachi’s arm is fully healed now, though her sweatshirt is torn. It’s the only reminder that anything was there moments ago.

She stands in front of him, only a step away, and meets his eyes. “Kyoutani, I need you to sit down on my couch. Can you do that for me?”

His mouth parts, but he’s still only capable of mumbling nonsense.

Her eyes narrow. “Please, go sit down.”

He nods. There’s no arguing with that tone or the golden flash that again sears through her brown eyes. Cautiously putting one foot in front of the other, Kyoutani settles on the couch in a daze, sitting at the edge of the cushion he was dozing on not that long ago.

Yachi puts a glass of water in front of him. When he doesn’t immediately reach to take it, she sighs softly and reaches out her free hand to carefully unwind his clenched hands and slip the glass of water between his palms.

It takes him a few breaths for his mind to catch up with his body, and he finally lifts his head to look at her. Except for the tear in her sweatshirt, she looks remarkably similar to how she did a few hours ago in her doorway—same kind face, same messy hair. But nothing is the same. He’s been waiting to wake up and with each passing second it doesn’t happen, Kyoutani feels fear settling into his stomach.

“Kyoutani-san,” she starts, her tone firm and resolute, “I am not going to tell you more than you need to know. That would only put you in danger. So I want you to finish that glass of water and then walk out of my apartment and forget you ever saw anything here, that you ever knew anything about me, okay? Contract void as of right now. You’re a good man. I feel like I can trust you to never speak of this to anyone.”

He knits his brows together as he processes her words. “You want me to go?”

“I don’t want you to,” she says quickly, a pained look in her eyes as she stares up at the ceiling for a moment. “I don’t  _ want _ you to, but you  _ need _ to. I can’t have anything happen to you. Not for my sake.”

“But what about you?” Kyoutani asks sharply. It’s the only question that matters. The note. The wound. He’s still so confused but the one thing he knows is that Yachi is still in danger.

The sharp cut of her tone is back. “That’s not your problem.”

“It’s my job and I—”

“It isn’t anymore.” She cuts him off, her voice raising even as it cracks. “You need to go.”

Despite everything that’s just happened, all Kyoutani sees is the same woman who stood in the doorway of her bedroom and cracked her door because— “I thought you didn’t want to be alone if you don’t have to be.”

Yachi’s lip quivers and she grits her teeth in response, clenching a fist at her side. “I don’t want to be alone!” She yells. “But I have to be!”

“I’m not leaving,” he argues, gripping the glass in his hand. “So now what?”

“You don’t have a choice. The only choice you have is whether you walk out of here on your own or if I have to throw you out.”

He thinks of the way those two men leapt from her windows and shudders.

“Not literally,” her tone softens, but there’s no joy in her features. “But I will shove you out this door. Don’t let it end badly, Kyoutani. Please, just do this for me. Drink your water, go home, and tell your agency I needed to move on. I’ll send your boss a letter saying it wasn’t your fault. A glowing recommendation.”

He crosses his arms. He wants to stand up from the couch, but he’s deeply aware of their size differences and doesn’t want to loom over her. Although, after watching her  _ heal herself _ he’s not sure where they stand.

“I’m not leaving.”

Her voice cracks, “Why?”

“Because I want to help you.”

Yachi gestures towards her bedroom with a wide swing of her arm. “After all you just saw?! You want to stay?” She shakes her head. “You’re delirious. This’ll catch up sooner or later and you’ll be glad I gave you an out because—”

“No.” At that, he does stand. And while he’s got a few feet over her in size, suddenly he feels like the small one when her eyes grow narrow, her jaw set. “Bodyguard or not, I’m staying. For you. I don’t really care what’s going on. I don’t understand a lot of things anyway. But I’m staying.” He repeats the last bit for emphasis and holds his breath while he waits for her response.

Yachi stares up at him, the yellow slowly draining from her eyes again, returning to deep brown. She turns her head, looking away as she takes several steps and turns her back on him.

“I can handle it myself.”

“I know you can. I just saw you heal yourself, so yeah,” Kyoutani lets out a dark, little laugh, “I think you can handle this shit on your own, but fact remains that I want to be there for you.” He lets the words settle between them for a moment, watching the way Yachi’s shoulders rise and fall with her breathing, before he adds, “I’ve done everything on my own for a long time, too.”

“This is different.”

“Probably,” he agrees, but pushes on, carefully watching her body language, listening to the tone in her voice and deciding he has an opening. Maybe. He’s never been one to choose the right words, but he’ll try. “But the thought of you doing it alone is wrong. I couldn’t live with it.”

“Why?” She asks again.

Kyoutani’s walked away from clients before. Hell, he’s walked out on friendships before. But Yachi’s treated him differently than anyone he’s ever known and he’s not walking out on her now. “Because you’re different. And—and I don’t just mean the healing and having friends who leap from windows, but just, the food, and how you talk to me. I just don’t hate you as much as everyone else and—” he seals his lips together, hand rubbing at the back of his head as he attempts to find a way to end his rambling. In the end, he finds he can only repeat himself. “I’m staying.”

Yachi turns back, her eyes watery in the dim light from her kitchen. She smiles weakly and says, “Fine. I’m not throwing you out. But I’m going to brew a pot of coffee because I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

***

Kyoutani’s beginning to think the coffee was a bad idea. As he sits on her couch, he holds his own mug in his hands—a simple white mug dotted with pink hearts. He’s still on his first cup and it’s gone lukewarm while he’s waited for Yachi to do anything besides chug coffee and pace around her living room.

About twenty minutes ago, she yelled, “I need a minute.” Ten minutes ago it was, “just another second.”

Now her coffee mug, decorated with bats, is shaking in her hands and she’s still pacing, but much faster now. If he hadn’t just seen her heal her own skin, he’d say her speed was impossibly fast for what he’d expect for living room pacing. She keeps stopping, opening her mouth, then shutting it tight and pacing again.

So he sits, heart mug in hand, and waits. At this point, he knows that whatever he’s about to hear is going to be insane and he thinks he’s ready for it. After all, he did just see two grown men leap out Yachi’s window like they were taking a step on the stairs. Kyoutani’s prepared for ridiculous. And still isn’t totally sure he isn’t dreaming.

Yachi stops again, nearly toppling over with the force of her pacing. She turns, like she’s done several times before, opens her mouth, then shuts it.

She’s about to pace again when Kyoutani grunts with frustration and interrupts her before she can begin in earnest. “Just tell me, okay? Whatever it is, it’s fine.”

Yachi lets out a squeaking sound, not unlike she does when people surprise her on set, and she stammers, “I’ve—I’ve just—I’ve haven’t said this to a human in a long time.”

The weight of those words hit him in a strange way, like he suddenly doesn’t feel like he’s worth telling. Of all the people Yachi’s known, of all the people she’s been kind to, she’s never told anyone—whatever this is? Clearly not human, given the way that was phrased. But this information is precious to her, guarded and close to her heart. He’s no one in her life, not really. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed.

He hears Yachi take a deep breath and his eyes drift up towards her. She’s standing halfway across her living room, slowly inching closer to him as she steadies herself with a few more deep breaths. She sets the coffee mug down on a side table near her TV, and with one final breath, she starts.

“I’m going to talk really fast, okay? I don’t know what I want to say and my heart is beating right out my chest—the coffee was not a good idea, it tends not to be—I’m already such a nervous wreck as it is most days, so I don’t need coffee to swing in and ruin my day, but there I am! Choosing coffee. Wait, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m trying to tell you about what you just saw. And I will just say it.”

She pauses, looking him straight in the eyes. Her mouth opens.

Her eyes dart away. “I can’t. I can’t do it. Saying it out loud it doesn’t feel right. Everyone that already knows, well, they know because,  _ of course _ they know, right?” She runs her fingers through her hair, her eyes looking everywhere but at Kyoutani.

“This doesn’t make any sense. I’m starting at the end. I don’t know. Those two guys were my friends. Long-time friends. The ones I don’t see anymore, you remember? And they mentioned Daichi because he—oh, I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to start at the beginning. But which beginning? The beginning of now or the  _ real _ beginning? No, that’s too gruesome. You don’t need to hear about  _ how _ . I’ll start with what you need to know.”

At this point, Kyoutani is aware that she’s speaking more to herself than him, but he swallows another sip of nearly-cold coffee and watches her intently. He knows the signs of lying by now. Whatever it is, Yachi’s right on the edge of truth. There’s no signs of trying to deceive him.

“And what you need to know is—See, the thing about me is that I’m—” Yachi makes a low, exasperated groan in her throat as she plops down on the floor in front of Kyoutani, sitting cross-legged. She looks up at him and her eyes look tired. “I’m a werewolf.”

Kyoutani’s brain goes fully offline the moment those words sink in. It’s just white noise and blank staring, even once Yachi continues speaking.

“I know how it sounds,” she says, voice slower now than before, “but it’s the truth in the plainest way I can say it. The two men who were here? They’re like me. We were all part of a pack until—” This time when she cuts herself off, there’s no anxious pacing to hide the way her face falls, a hidden hurt behind each one of her subtly shifted features.

Her gaze shifts to her hands where she’s picking at the hem of her sweatshirt. “The reason I don’t see them anymore, why I’ve been alone for some time now is because when I was first turned, it was because Daichi saved my life. He’s their Alpha. Of their pack, I mean. And I lived with them, they kept me safe and taught me what to do, until I  _ also _ presented as an Alpha.”

Her eyes dart back up to meet his but Kyoutani knows that the look on his face is showing anything but clever understanding. He can feel his jaw hanging there, slack and open again, but there’s he can do little about it.

“It meant,” she starts, meeting his eyes this time, “that I was powerful enough for a pack of my own. It’s rare to present so early in someone’s time as a wolf, but here I am. Also it meant,” she closes her eyes, “that I couldn’t live with them anymore.”

When her eyes open again, there’s a tiny smile at the corner of her lips that doesn’t quite reach the rest of her face. “They still check on me sometimes, like you saw tonight.” She laughs, the sound thin. “I think they patrol around here as much as they can manage, but pack dynamics aren’t just some code we all follow. It’s written in our blood, and the moment I presented, they weren’t mine anymore. I couldn’t stay there as a challenge to Daichi. I had to leave.”

There’s tears threatening to spill over and she blinks them back. “But I’m too much of a mess to start a pack. I still can’t always control my shifting. I have to go way out in the country for the moon cycle because I’m too dangerous. I’m strong, so I can hold my own, but I can’t do everything Daichi does for his pack. I don’t have that kind of sturdiness, that reliability. I can barely take care of myself.”

She grows smaller and smaller, shrinking in on herself as the words tumble out until her voice is barely above a whisper. Kyoutani wants to say something comforting, but his head is still spinning and the words won’t come. He can’t even reach out and make some comforting gesture. Not that he’s ever known how to do those anyway.

But right now—right now he wants to.

“I just—I haven’t had anyone to talk to about this in years, and it feels good to tell you now, truly it does, but Kyoutani, you’re under no obligation to stay. I can still give you an out.”

Kyoutani blinks several more times as her words bounce from one end of his brain to the other. His head hurts and he feels a little light-headed. Yachi’s looking at him expectantly, but his thoughts won’t stop spinning long enough for him to grab onto anything. He grits his teeth as he fails to fill the dead air between them.

Yachi bites her bottom lip, still not daring to look away.

He feels something grow tight in his chest. He blames his heart, what all this new stress is doing to him, but he knows that can’t be it. Even with everything he’s just heard, even with his confusing tangle of thoughts, he feels strangely calm. His whole notion of how the world functions has been challenged, but all he can focus on right now, in this moment, is how sad Yachi looks.

And kind people don’t deserve to be sad.

He grips his hands around his mug, meets her eyes, and says with every ounce of finality he can manage, “I’m staying. I’m your fucking pack now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am happily shook that so many of you left such sweet comments on the first chapter. Thank you! This is AU on top of AUs with a rarepair and I guess more of y'all are in the mood for that than I expected. KyouYachi just has so many adorable layers. I think they'd bring out different sides of one another as they grew closer - canonverse or wild werewolf universe alike.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this one, too! Thanks for still reading!
> 
> (goes back to wistfully imagining wolf!Tsukki)


	3. "Thank you for being my pack.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yachi is a beast. *winks*

There’s some awkward, aborted steps towards furthering the conversation before Yachi finally gets up from the floor to sit down on the couch next to him. Her eyes stare straight ahead, looking anywhere but at Kyoutani, and she says with finality, “Okay, then, Kyoutani. Stay. But know that I’m not waiting until morning.”

He doesn’t have to ask what for, gathering all he needs to know from the way her fingers are clawing into the fabric of her sweatpants, the sharp edge to her voice. 

“What do we need to do?” He asks, ready.

Yachi’s insistence on secrecy, on handling this on her own now makes sense. And after what he’s just seen, he’s inclined to think she definitely could do all of this on her own. But her words at the door hours ago weren’t fake. She doesn’t want to be alone if she doesn’t have to be. And she won’t have to be anymore.

Even if he’s not like her, even if he can’t really help, he’s sure as hell going to try. She’s not packless anymore. Yachi’s got him.

She gets up again to pace, but this time there’s a slow dilberancy to her movements as she gathers her thoughts. Little by little, she lets Kyoutani in.

“They’re not a threat, not really—this group, they’re—they’re what’s leftover of greater hunting families from hundreds of years ago. Only now they’ve been reduced to loud, pitiful men with more bark than bite that like to rant and rave about purity and tradition.” She glances down at her ripped sweatshirt. “But I guess some of that’s changed. Not to mention the fact that they broke into my home.” She says the final words with a growl that rumbles up from her chest.

“Where are we going?” Kyoutani asks, feeling a familiar hum of resentful energy in his body, his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap.

Yachi turns and gives him a wry smile. “Just like that? You’re ready to march into the unknown? I’ve barely told you anything. And you’ve only just learned—”

“I know what I need to know.” He stands abruptly, again towering over Yachi but feeling like the much smaller person. Her presence has changed since the attack, since she told him everything. There’s a marked determination in her movements, in the way she speaks now. She’s carrying herself differently.

When he looks down, he still sees Yachi, but now there’s so much more.

“Good,” she says with finality, “We’re going to send a message of our own.”

***

An hour ago, Kyoutani thought Yachi was simply a kinder than average, skittish starlet with a particular skill for speaking too quickly to follow. She’s still all those things, but—

“Keep up,” she orders, her nose held high in the air before taking off down another alley between apartment buildings.

He’s reminded of the first day they met when she told him she was small, but quick, and asked him to do the same. This time, though, every time she darts off, he has to break out into a full-on sprint to stay by her side. Even with the effort, he trails behind her the entire time. She moves with a now-understandable inhuman quickness, so light on her feet it’s as though she’s scarcely touching the ground.

It’s late and the streets are empty, but Yachi still keeps to the darkest corners as they travel through the city. Kyoutani thinks, as he watches her catch a scent again on the air, her assailant must have taken the same route when they fled.

More than once she perches on all fours, her face pressed near to the ground, and Kyoutani feels an odd sort of excitement in his chest watching her. In every other way, she’s the same client he’s worked with for weeks, but this version of her, the _truth_ of her, has created a whole mess of thoughts and weird feelings in his chest, in his stomach. But he shoves them aside, pushes them deeper into the back of his mind as he tries to focus on running hard enough to stay with her.

Yachi finally comes to a stop outside an old house on the outskirts of town. The exterior of the building doesn’t look all that different from Kyoutani’s place. Something in desperate need of repairs it’ll never get. It’s a quiet but run-down looking neighborhood. There’s piles of trashbags out front. The place reeks.

He opens his mouth to ask a question, but in the same breath, Yachi is slamming her shoulder into the door and it caves like it was made of cardboard.

And oh, now Kyoutani can name that weird, tight feeling in his chest—

It’s hot. She’s hot. The whole powerful wolf thing is confusingly and impossibly hot.

Shouts cry out from the house and his attention is drawn back to the moment.

“It’s her!”

Kyoutani readies himself, fists raised, body braced as he runs in after Yachi. But it’s clear in seconds how little he is needed. Yachi’s landing several perfectly placed, powerful punches that leave three men on the ground. As she swings her fists, Kyoutani sees that they’ve changed—the muscles in her arms are bulging, and there’s traces of fur beginning to creep down her arm. She lunges at another man before he can ready a knife, and she tackles him with the full force of her body, knocking him out.

The rest of the men that aren’t incapacitated freeze where they stand.

She looms over the man’s body she just took out and slowly rises. Her eyes are a sharp yellow pouring through narrow slits. The hair on her arms has grown thicker and her entire small but strong frame seems stockier, sturdier.

“Don’t you ever—” Yachi growls through gritted teeth.

Kyoutani notices that they, too, have changed. Sharper now. Fangs. He shudders.

“—come to my home,” she continues, snarling as she steps closer to the other men, “or anywhere I will ever be, ever again.”

She lets out a low rumble from her chest and picks up a beat-up armchair beside her and holding it like it weighs nothing.

The men make terrified sounds, some are pleading with her, but all Kyoutani can hear is his heart drumming in his ears. He feels a shiver up his spine.

Yachi snaps her teeth shut and throws the chair into a nearby wall, plaster and wood splintering everywhere.

Kyoutani watches, eyes wide, as she starts to roll her neck. She twitches, first her arm, her leg, then she’s letting out a blood-freezing howl as her head shifts into that of a human-like wolf. The rest of her body is larger now, and there’s fur, but she’s still recognizable Yachi, even with a snout filled with deadly teeth.

When she speaks this time, her voice is that of an entirely different beast, rumbling and low. “Don’t come to where I work. Don’t come to my home. Don’t go near my friends. Forget I exist. Or I’ll smash more than your wall next time.”

With a trembling shout, one of the men foolishly tries to take a run at her. She reaches out one arm and knocks him out cold with no effort given.

“Do I make myself clear?” She growls, her eyes locking the other terrified men in place.

She reaches behind her and snaps several of the weapons hanging on the wall before those eyes land on Kyoutani. In a flash, she’s no longer in front of him anymore, but beside him and grabbing at his shoulder. Then he’s torn away from that room and pulled into the night.

Wind whips past his ears as Yachi holds him by his arm. He can hear the beat of his racing heart and little else as she takes off running. Her speed is nothing like before. The views of the city whip past him so quickly, everything is a blur of lights and shadows that all blend together. It’s frightening, and he wants to move himself, wants to be in control of his body like he always needs to be, but he knows he can’t gain a footing, not at this inhuman pace.

So he lets himself be pulled, lets himself trust the hand holding onto him.

Eventually, they stop. His feet touch the ground. They’re in an empty parking lot, still on the outskirts of the city. It takes him several breaths to get his bearings, to feel less shaky on his own two feet. His stomach twists and turns and he has to take another steadying breath to hold himself together.

In front of him, Yachi doubles over. For half a second, he worries something happened to her that he missed, another injury. But then her head is twitching, the sounds of bones cracking as her face and skin reform into the Yachi he recognizes. He watches her with fascination as the fur recedes and her teeth shrink back into her mouth. Then she folds over further, making a sound that takes Kyoutani a moment to realize is laughter.

“Oh my god,” she gasps between laughs that overtake her whole body, “that was so hard! I didn’t think I was going to be able to hold it that long!” She stands, clutching her stomach as short bursts of laughter still bubble up from her chest. “I did it, though! Kyoutani, I held that form. I stayed in control that whole time!”

There’s so much joy in her eyes that Kyoutani can’t help but feel it, too, despite every world-changing thing he’s just seen and learned over the past few hours. He’s stunned and can’t move, but he feels the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into something that maybe might look like a smile.

“You did,” he falters, having no idea what to say, “good. You did good.”

“I did!” She yells, her grin wide. Then she’s bounding over in big, bouncing steps, jumping up, and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

On instinct, he reaches around her to catch her before she slips back down to the ground.

Yachi presses her cheek against his chest and he can feel the laughter still rumbling through her body. His heart is still beating uncontrollably and he hopes she can’t hear it, but there’s no way she can’t feel it from where she’s holding onto him.

“Thank you,” she says with a smile in her voice, “thank you for being my pack.”

Kyoutani feels that weird pinch in his chest, flashes of Yachi laying waste to a room full of terrified men, and he has to push out his words around the lump in his throat. “I didn’t do anything,” he mumbles.

“Yes, you did.” Yachi presses her cheek more firmly against his chest.

His arms move on their own, squeezing her once more as she starts to wriggle free. He carefully sets her down on her own two feet again.

“You helped me.” She looks up at him, face still bright with joy, and says, “I’ve never felt brave enough to do that before! Without you I—”

As soon as the words leave her lips, her expression shifts. Her eyes widen and she bites her bottom lip like she’s keeping it shut on purpose. There’s still a ferocity in her gaze that’s not there normally, but in this moment she looks far more like the Yachi he enjoys talking to, likes sharing dinners with everyday.

She looks the same, except for the light dusting of pink across her cheeks that’s steadily turning a deeper shade as the seconds pass.

And suddenly he’s aware that time is passing. A lot of it. Yachi spoke last, but it’s been a while since either of them moved. It must be Kyoutani’s turn to speak because he’s said very little this whole time. She’s looking at him like he needs to talk.

He knows how Yachi is. She’s probably looking for what he thinks, her subconscious running away on its own with thoughts that can go from wondering to anxious in a flash. He needs to say something, knows he needs to, but he just keeps watching that blush bloom on her cheeks in silent awe.

Yachi breaks their stare by turning away and laughing weakly. She looks off into the night as she offers, “Well, I guess you’re free to go back to your home tonight, but it’s nearly morning, and we only have a few hours before I wake up late and we have to run to the studio. So, if you wanted to, only if you wanted to, of course, we can go back to my place together.”

Kyoutani likes how the word “together” sounds in her voice.

“I’ll probably have to sleep in the guest room until I get the window fixed because, well—”

“The couch is fine,” he nods, finding his voice among all the weird things he can’t quite label going on inside.

Actually it’s worse than that, because he _is_ starting to understand what that warm and weird feeling in his chest is but he doesn’t know what to do with it. This is entirely new. Everything about this night has been entirely new.

Tonight he’s seen Yachi for who she is and he knows he doesn’t see her the same anymore. And only some of that has to do with her being an astonishingly aggressive and attractive, for a wolf.

The silence between them stretches again. Once more their eyes find one another’s and they’re stuck in a glance that won’t end. Neither of them look or away or bother to speak. Kyoutani’s skin feels clammy and his stomach pinches into tight knots.

“I don’t—” he pauses, his voice sounding strange as it leaves his lips, quiet and subdued in a way he doesn’t recognize. “We’re nowhere near your home anymore, so maybe I should call us a ride back to your place?”

Yachi’s mouth falls open, but she leaves her words unsaid and simply nods.

***

“Do you need another blanket?” Yachi stands in the doorway to her guest room. She’s been offering him tea, beer, or blankets over and over since they got back. Kyoutani recognizes the pattern. It’s the same as when she has a hard day on set and keeps worrying over one small thing to get her mind off whatever is actually bothering her.

Kyoutani rocks on his heels. He’s standing in her living room and he needs to move, needs to relieve some of this energy from all his blood still humming in his body. He keeps taking his hands in and out of his pockets. He’d like to help her calm down, but he still doesn’t know how. Usually Yachi manages it herself, or else she eats enough hamburgers in the car to ease her energy. “I’m fine. I probably won’t sleep much anyway.”

“Me neither, honestly,” she says, one of her hands clutching her bedroom doorframe. She changed after her shower into another sweatshirt and leggings that hug her legs.

Now Kyoutani knows how much power is in those legs, how much power hums just below the surface throughout her entire body.

He catches himself staring and forces his eyes to meet hers. Yachi’s been through hell and back this evening. She still needs him. He might not be able to fight, but he is still a part of this now. Trouble is, Kyoutani still hasn’t magically learned how to console others in the past few hours. He doesn’t even know if that’s what she needs now.

“Do you want to watch TV?” He offers, tone gruff and unsure. When he can’t sleep, he puts on the same few channels and tries to either bore himself to sleep with weather or else fall asleep to the soothing sounds of someone cooking. He has his favorites. Maybe Yachi does, too.

Her face brightens, her tiny smile almost reaching her eyes this time, and she nods. Wordlessly, she crosses her living room to take a seat on her couch, stiff and pressed up against the armrest.

Kyoutani does the same. He sits with his hands in his lap and pushes his body as close to the opposite armrest as it will go, but he keeps glancing at Yachi out of the corner of his eye.

She curls her feet up until her legs are pressed against her chest, her nose touching her knees, twisting her hands together in the small space between.

He wants to look closer, to see if his eyes are deceiving him, if that same faint pink flush is still dusting her cheeks like he thinks it is, but he doesn’t dare lean in closer because he’s worried that this warmth he feels in his chest is might be doing the same to his face.

Kyoutani can scarcely believe she’s the same creature from before. As she returns to the Yachi he’s known, she makes herself smaller, curling in on herself and clearly overthinking something.

Slowly he turns to look at her, taking a moment to make sure his face looks normal. It doesn’t feel normal. “What do you like to watch?” He asks, hoping it will stop whatever train of thought has taken over her mind.

Her eyes snap up to meet his. “Food,” she says quickly. “On TV. I like food. Cooking. When people cook.” She shakes her head. “Not competition shows, though. Those are too intense and I feel bad for everybody. But I do like the competitions where no one really cares, you know? Where it’s more just for fun. Like with over-the-top baking. Oh, I also like cake decorating.” Her head falls to rest on her knees. “What do you like?”

“The same,” he replies simply, feeling oddly hot again with those eyes on him in the warmth of Yachi’s home. She seems to be searching him for something, her gaze wandering along the lines of his frame on her couch, and he wonders if he’s supposed to speak more. “But I’m more into meat. I like bar-b-que shows.”

Yachi puffs out a soft laugh and flips on the TV, leaning away from the armrest and settling against the back of the couch, slightly tilted in Kyoutani’s direction.With her eyes glued to the TV, Yachi starts to unfurl from her tight position. Kyoutani doesn’t watch the screen at all. He can’t seem to focus.

After a while of sitting in silence, Yachi says, “I never really said thank you.”

His reply is immediate. “You did, though.”

“But it’s not enough. Not enough to honestly tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for me tonight.”

He shakes his head, still not daring to peek over at her. “I barely did anything.”

“You have to know that’s not true,” Yachi replies earnestly. She waits a beat with the TV on in the background, filling the air between them, until she says quietly, so softly he almost misses it, “You’re the first one that’s stayed.” 

“Hm?” He questions, not sure he heard her at all. He turns to face her so he can understand her better and he sees her curled up into herself again, her face pinched in a pained expression.

“You’re the only one that’s ever stayed once they knew what I was. I haven’t told anyone in years. Whenever someone got too close to figuring it out or started being suspicious, I stopped being their friend or fired them because—” Her forehead falls to rest on her knees. “—the last time I told someone, they left me and it hurt.”

“Why would someone leave _you_?” He emphasizes the last word as fresh anger rushes through him.

“See! That’s just what I mean. You—You—” She lifts her head and stares at him, her voice getting louder. “You think of me differently than everyone else. I have my old pack, and they know _me_ , but everyone else knows this other version of me—the scatterbrained, anxious, but harmless actor that always gets the best friend roles, never the lead, because I don’t stand out enough. And you’ve—you’ve seen me eat four hamburgers in the car and never once made a comment. You don’t back down when I get angry. You saw everything about my life—the horrible, hidden parts—and you stayed.”

His voice is deep, steadfast when he replies simply, “I don’t think you’re horrible.”

“Why not?” Yachi shouts, throwing one of her arms wide.

“Because I can’t!” He shouts back, his heart pounding. And for the first time, he thinks maybe he has the right words to say to her. They’re words he’s been saying to himself ever since his first week working with her.

He tries to pull his face into something softer, tries to steady his tone, but he has little control over that most days, so he’ll just have to do his best. “You’re the kindest person I know. Ever. You do nice things for people on set that they never know about. You always ask me if I want a coffee or a meal. Yachi, no one likes me, no one’s liked me in a long time, but you kind of seem to.”

Her smile is timid and laced with sadness. “I do. I like you, Kyoutani. You’re a kind person, too.”

“What?” He sputters. His brain barely has time to process the first part of what she’s said before he’s fighting against the second, thinking of everything he’s been told about himself since he was a kid. Always in trouble. Always picking fights. Mean Kentarou. He got a reputation and it stuck. No one cared if he was sticking up for someone else or finally striking back against someone who had messed with him. They just saw mean, intimidating Kyoutani and he embraced it because it was easier to just keep everyone away.

“You’re kind.” Yachi repeats.

Kyoutani looks down at his hands. With his voice thick with resentment that’s built for years, he replies, “That’s not true.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Yachi’s feet stretch to the floor and feel the couch shift beside him. “You get me out of my head when I’m thinking too hard.”

“I always say the wrong thing.”

“That usually makes me laugh, though. And sometimes you know just what to do. You care for others and it’s such a shame that enough people haven’t given you the chance to show that side of you. But I know you continue to in your own way.”

At that, he finally does look up. The words wash over him and he doesn’t say anything back. He can’t.

Closer to him now, Yachi smiles at him, soft and sweet under her tired eyes. “You’re a good person, Kyoutani. And I’m glad you’re part of my pack.”

She turns back to the TV and they watch in silence except for when Yachi sprinkles in little comments about what the bakers are attempting to do. She knows all the fancy, French words for things and her voice sounds less charged, more exhausted but gentler as she speaks.

Kyoutani sits upright the whole time, his eyes on the screen, his back as straight as a board, his hands carefully placed in his lap, still reeling from the fact that Yachi thinks he’s _kind_ . Yachi thinks he’s a _good person_. At best, he has people in his life who tolerate him, who can see bits of the good, maybe, that are under this horrible personality he’s created.

Now that he thinks about it, though, he was never his usual, horrible self around her. From the beginning, he was trying to be professional because he couldn’t handle being yelled at by Iwaizumi for getting fired again. But it was more than that. It started with that first car ride when she offered to order him food, too, when she so easily welcomed him into being a part of her life. She disarmed him from the start.

And now she thinks he’s _kind_ ?! What is he supposed to do with that? He already has too many mortifying _feelings_ swimming around in his body and making his stomach hurt. Now there’s even more. Usually, Kyoutani punches his way through his problems. But there’s no punching his way through this. He doesn’t want to, anyway, but also Yachi could easily punch him through a wall if she wanted.

That thought sends a shiver down his spine.

 _Feelings_ , he groans inside his own messy mind and he tries to ignore it all for now, pack it away until he can sit by himself in his old apartment, until he can decide if he’s going to lock it away for good or, impossibly, act on some of these. Whatever that would look like.

The mere thought of that makes him dig his fingertips into his leg and squeeze his eyes shut. He takes a breath and locks it all up, turns his attention back to the show.

Beside him, Yachi’s still chatting about the baking, but her voice has gotten a bit lower, she’s yawning more often, and with every passing minute, she’s begun to slip along the back of the couch towards Kyoutani’s shoulder.

With his fingers clawed tighter into his thighs, he braces himself for the moment her cheek comes to rest on his body. But when it happens, he’s entirely unprepared for the softness of her sleepy body next to his and the way her hair tickles at his chin.

Kyoutani stops breathing. His palms sweat where they grip into the tops of his thighs. He holds his breath because he doesn’t want her to wake up and move to the other side of the couch again. He likes having Yachi there. Yes, it makes his chest feel like it’s going to explode. But in a nice way. Like everything with Yachi, it’s nicer than he expected.

He swallows hard before he quietly gulps down air to refill his lungs. He remains as still as stone, though. Kyoutani could sit like this all night if she needed him to. She probably needs rest. He can do this for her. He can stare at the wall while his brain whites out from the feeling of Yachi on his shoulder.

Her hand flops down heavily to rest on his thigh, right near his hand.

This is how Kyoutani meets his end. He’s going to sweat so much that he melts. Or else his heart is going to beat so quickly that he ceases to exist, just ascends to another plane of existence. Everything else about this night has been weird, so that could probably happen.

He feels his face heating up and Kyoutani has never, in his life _ever_ , blushed, but he thinks that’s what’s happening now. Every part of his body feels so hot and itchy—why is he so itchy all of a sudden? There’s a whimpering sound and it takes him a moment to realize it came from him.

Yachi stirs, making a soft grumbling hum that causes Kyoutani’s palms to sweat even more. She lifts her head, yawning and glancing around until she inhales sharply and locks eyes with Kyoutani.

They’re close enough that Kyoutani can feel her breath on his skin. Her eyes go wide and he can feel that he’s doing the same. He glances down at her lips, just for a moment, and when his gaze meets hers again, there’s a sharp look of realization on her face. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Both of them are breathing quickier now and Kyoutani has to swallow down another strange sound that’s rumbling up from his chest.

Abruptly, Yachi stands, her chest rapidly rising and falling. She pulls on the ends of her sweatshirt arms, covering her hands, and then brings them up to cover her face. “Good night, Kyoutani,” she mumbles from behind the fabric.

“Good night,” he says, not able to bring himself to say her name. Not right now.

He watches as she drops her sweatshirt from her face, then she’s rushing into his space, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, and darting towards her bedroom, her back to him. She shouts, “I’m gonna go sleep in the guest room now!”

***

Kyoutani wakes to someone lightly pressing on his shoulder.

“Kyoutani-san,” he hears Yachi whisper, “we have to go. The car’s here.”

He sucks in a breath, all of last night sweeping back into his mind at once and shaking him into alertness. He lifts his head, ready to jump up and leave.

Only to find his face is now scarcely an inch away from Yachi’s. She’s leaning over him, her blonde hair falling around her face, eyes still a bit heavy with sleep and probably exhaustion from last night. His throat is dry at the sight of her.

Yachi doesn’t pull away. She hums quietly, a small but happy sound, as she looks at him, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, what are they all going to think today? You’re wearing yesterday’s clothes and I look like a mess.” She puffs out a breathy laugh, her eyes drifting to the rest of Kyoutani’s body and he feels decidedly too warm.

“Come on.” She stands, reaching out her hand. “Let’s go.”

This morning, though late as usual, Yachi’s not her flurry of rushed actions and hurried speech. She’s calm. Obviously tired, but calm.

He shakily takes her hand, even though he doesn’t _need_ it to stand.

She doesn’t say anything as she gathers her things to leave, but she also doesn’t let go of him. Yachi keeps their palms pressed together until she’s locked the door and they’re nearly at the elevator.

When she does let go, Kyoutani looks down at his hand with furrowed brows, shocked that his skin feels so different now that someone’s—no, not someone, _Yachi_ —touched him with such tenderness.

He doesn’t think anyone’s held his hand, not since he was a small child, before life made him angry and distant from others. In that elevator, he stands silent but filled with a buzzing sensation just under his skin. It’s strange, but in the light of morning, it’s not as unwelcome as it was last night.

The moment her feet hit the sidewalk outside, Yachi begins her daily run-down of all today’s worries, rambling on and interrupting herself as they climb into the car. Her calm is now erased as she scrolls through her phone and talks about the weirdly-worded message from her manager that makes her wonder if she did something wrong.

As she takes off talking about that, Kyoutani tries to resettle himself in the normalcy of this car ride, of their day ahead. But after last night, everything has shifted. _Everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for still reading! Werewolf Yachi has stolen my heart (and Kyoutani's).


	4. Do you want to kiss me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the action behind us, we're ready for the *romance.*

_ Be professional _ . Iwaizumi’s order rings in Kyoutani’s ears everyday on set, but it’s much louder now. He tries very hard to not look directly at Yachi for too long because it makes his skin heat, makes his thoughts start to run away from him. But it’s difficult when it’s  _ quite literally _ his job to watch her and everything around her.

And Yachi’s not making it any easier. In between takes, even if he moves to a different spot, she finds him and pins him in place in a way that leaves him warm under his ironed collar. Sometimes she smiles, something subtle and small, but other times it’s a sly grin and Kyoutani decides that’s far more dangerous because now he knows what power lies dormant in that tiny body.

Yachi’s laser focus on him isn’t everything, though. She continues to be a mass of constant contradictions. One moment she’s standing in his space, chatting with a co-star, casually touching him on the arm. And the next she’s looking everywhere except him, fumbling over her words as she tries and fails to ask him if he’d like a coffee since her assistant is running out to get one for her.

Also he doesn’t remember all her sweaters and sweatshirts slipping off her shoulder this often before.

All of it makes sweat prickle at the back of his neck while tries to keep his face as expressionless as it used to be—before Yachi.

When the day starts to wind down, he’s not sure which version of Yachi will join him in the car ride home this evening.

As they walk out to the car, a reporter for some tabloid lobs purposefully painful questions in her direction so Kyoutani is forced, obviously, to get in their face and rear back his fist with a growl until they back off. It means that Yachi gets to the car before him and when he slips through the open door, Yachi is on the side where he usually sits. His eyes dart between the open seat and his usual spot and he can’t decide where he’s supposed to be.

Behind him there are cameras flashing and he knows he has to make a choice. He moves towards the empty seat, Yachi’s usual spot, but in the moment before he sits, Yachi glances up at him. That small, coy smile is there on her lips and he’s pulled to the spot beside her. He settles, his stomach twisting. His skin feels hot under his clothing where Yachi’s body is aligned next to his.

She’s in another one of her oversized sweatshirts, but a skirt peeks out from underneath and he tries, and fails, to not think about how some of Yachi’s bare skin is pressed against his slacks. The car is warm, stupidly warm, and his fingertips tingle with the desire to skim his fingertips along the silky lines of her legs, so he grips his traitorous hands into his pant legs and hopes Yachi doesn't notice his knuckles turning white.

Sparing the way Kyoutani is on fire, the rest of the ride is normal. Yachi orders food for them and he nods through his order, staring at the empty seat across from him and wondering where his voice has gone. He listens to every word Yachi says as she decompresses from her day, spilling all the thoughts she managed to keep locked up inside until now. But he has to squint sometimes, as though that’ll help him hear the words she’s saying over the loud drumming in his ears.

“—and now that you know about the whole  _ wolf _ thing, I can complain about that, too! See I’m jumpy because, well, that’s who I’ve always been, but  _ also _ it’s because at any given moment I can hear  _ everything _ . And the smells! If someone has something nasty for lunch, even if it was  _ hours ago _ , it’s so distracting that I can’t hear what people are saying to me so I get spooked when they ask me questions and I’m all confused, so I—”

She talks throughout their car ride, a bit more than usual, and only falls silent when they get to the elevator for her building. As she bounces towards her doorway, the back of her hand brushes against his. She lets him into her place first, like every night, so he can make a quick scan of her home, but when he turns to leave, Yachi’s still there in the doorway. Both of her hands are holding plastic bags filled with take-out boxes and he can hear the crackling from where her hands are fidgeting with the handles.

Again that focused gaze is on him and his face tingles as though he can actually feel where her eyes land. Her eyes are narrowed slightly, her lips pinched together in a thin, straight line across her face.

Her hair’s grown messy since leaving set and he wants to reach out and smooth the stray blonde strands. A ridiculous impulse, of course. He keeps his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his denim jacket.

Kyoutani watches as her face works through slight changes in her expression before she relaxes with a soft sigh. She steps aside and says, “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ducking his head quickly, he darts through the door muttering his own quick, “Good night.”

It’s not until he’s back home and lying on his couch, one leg slung over the back, that he wipes his face with his hands and finally relaxes. Relatively. He’s still a bundle of nerves and feels far too awake to go to sleep anytime soon.

He thinks back and honestly can’t remember the last time he  _ liked _ someone, maybe even  _ loved, _ someone like this. Not just a random bar hook-up. Not a friend with benefits, in the loosest term of the word “friend.” But someone he genuinely wanted to talk to and take out on dates. Because he really does, for the first time, want all those things, but he sees three huge problems.

One, he has absolutely no experience and he could be imagining all of this. Yachi is kind. People are not kind to Kyoutani. He could be misunderstanding her actions.

Two, even if he wasn’t misreading the situation, he has no idea how to move forward. This isn’t some “better be gone in the morning” one night stand. Yachi trusts him. She’s shared so much of herself and he hasn’t given much in return. Doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t know how to date or how to let someone into his life.

And three, it’s definitely, absolutely against about a hundred of Iwaizumi’s rules.

He groans, letting his fingers dig into his scalp, and decides that just like every other stupid feeling he’s had, he can push this one down, too.

***

The next morning Kyoutani knocks on Yachi’s door once with his knuckle and the front door flies open. Yachi looks wide-eyed and wild. She shouts, “So, I like you!”

With some of her latent strength, she grabs his jacket and yanks him inside, shutting the door closed before the rest of her words fly out as she paces in front of him, no longer meeting his gaze.

“I like you, Kyoutani. I know I already said that the other night when I said you were kind and you were, like, ‘no,’ and I said ‘yes you are.’ But I meant it differently than I think you took it and so I need to be clearer that I like you in a  _ different _ way, a  _ special _ way.” 

She gasps for breath, still pacing. “And I know I don’t seem like a bold person, but you don’t become a werewolf because you make the most careful decisions all the time. In fact my life is just one, long string of probably bad decisions after another—except for when I’m too anxious to make a decision so I do nothing, which is even worse, and that’s what this was becoming. I was up half the night thinking about everything you’ve done for me and, Kyoutani, I see the way you look at me sometimes and I can’t help but think, maybe, maybe—”

Her chest heaves with the effort of taking another breath as she stops pacing and stares at him. “You said you were part of my pack. We can stay just like that. But I have to be honest otherwise the nerves eat me alive and I end up ordering enough cheeseburgers and fries for an entire party at 4AM.” She laughs but the sound is watery and weak. “I just—you probably don’t see me that way because, honestly, who could after seeing who I really am—”

“That was hot,” Kyoutani blurts.

“What?” Her brown eyes widen.

“Wolf—the wolf stuff. That was hot. Watching you take down a room full of dudes was hot.” That now-familiar itch is creeping across his skin as he reaches for honesty. This is the closest Kyoutani has ever been to a confession. He knows he’s not getting it right, but the slight smile on Yachi’s lips spurs him on. He rubs at his arm nervously when he continues. “A good hot. I liked it. I liked it a lot. But I—”

“Of course there’s a ‘but,’” she says, her whole body slumping as she starts to pace again. “I don’t blame you. It’s nice to know you think it’s hot.” She laughs again, weaker than before. “But being in love with someone like me is entirely different. So, I get it. It’s okay. Forget I said anything and we can still be a pack.”

Kyoutani’s feet move before his brain can catch up and suddenly he’s in front of her, blocking her from pacing any more, setting his hands on her arms and gently pulling her forward. Yachi inhales sharply, her eyes wide and sharp in the moment right before he closes his own, leans forward, and kisses her the way he thinks someone like Yachi should be kissed—soft, but sure.

Their lips touch for scarcely a moment before he realizes that her face is rigid and tense between his hands. He pulls back, afraid he’s ruined everything spectacularly. He can’t open his eyes. He waits.

“Do it again,” Yachi whispers.

Kyoutani’s eyes startle open.

“Please?” She adds. Then she’s the one leaning towards him, body stretching as she stands on her toes, rising up towards his face, her eyes fluttering shut, airy breaths leaving her lips and skating across his skin.

He pulls back for just a second. “I also—I like you, too. A lot. Very much.”

The way Yachi smiles back at him makes every inch of his skin tingle. Kyoutani closes the small gap between them and kisses her with the intensity of all the words he can’t say so maybe she’ll understand. Yachi deserves more and, if she’ll let him, he’ll learn to soften his hard edges and be the Kentarou that existed long before he collected a lifetime’s worth of bad reputations.

When he leaves it’s only after Yachi pulls him back down for another kiss in her doorway. His heart doesn’t stop racing until his bus ride has taken him nearly all the way home.

***

The next workday is interesting, to say the least. Yachi is more oblivious to what others are saying than most days, off in her own, little world where she’s blushing at whatever thoughts are running through her mind.

Kyoutani spends the day sweating through his undershirt, trying his best to be  _ professional _ , all while wondering what on earth she’s thinking about. Knowing Yachi, it’s something sweet. He decides to learn to be sweeter. Maybe he should actually be paying attention to this romantic drama he’s on the set of everyday. He could learn something. Well, maybe not from this drama. There’s way too much kissing in the rain. And running in the rain. Really just a lot of rain.

The only time they’re alone the entire filming day is when she comes back out of her dressing room in her next outfit. She’s dressed casually for the next shot in her fake “home” and it reminds him of how soft she looks in her own home, even on that awful night. It awakens that itch on his skin again, and he feels confused enough to forget where they are and awkwardly kisses Yachi on her forehead before muttering to himself as he looks away and puts some distance between them.

Yachi doesn’t find reasons to touch him as often. There’s no light touch on his arm while she chats with her co-star. She brushes past him quickly, only sparing a glance over her shoulder, something sharp in her eyes.

He decides it’s worse than being touched throughout the day. His nerves are set on fire because without her easy closeness, he’s jumpy whenever she’s near and the touch doesn’t come. There’s no release of all that tension.

The tension builds all day until the second he sits in the car, his body humming with energy, and says in one loud rush of breath, his words slurring together, “I want to date you!”

“You do?” She beams over at him, letting out a quiet sigh. “Because I would love that.” Yachi glances down at her hands. “Dating is weird for me, though, because going out means people take photos I don’t want.”

“Oh.”

“I know it wouldn’t be the same—” Her gaze seeks his again. “—but we could hang out at my place. Or yours! I don’t want to presume.”

“My place is horrible.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

Kyoutani glares as his response.

She laughs, batting him lightly on the arm. His whole body tightens.

“If you want, we could try a date tonight?”

“No! Not tonight.” He jumps, unsure of why he’s panicking. “Something nice. I need to wear something nice,” he says gruffly. What he wanted to say was that he would like to have some time to plan something, but he’s said what he’s said and his mouth shuts up tight right afterwards, his heart pounding.

“Alright. Tomorrow night, then.” Yachi smiles, her eyes bright as she just simply  _ looks _ at him.

Kyoutani’s not sure where to look so his eyes dart around to the different parts of her face, his heart racing with each new detail before they land on her lips again.

Yachi yawns then leans over and rests her head on his shoulder. Getting out her phone and scrolling through her favorite food apps, she asks, “What do you want tonight, Kyoutani?”

Besides the gentle touch that leaves him oddly keyed up and soothed at the same time, the rest of the car ride and the walk up to her apartment is so normal that his nerves start to settle. But once they’re actually in her place, the mood shifts. They bump around one another awkwardly. Whenever they’re close, Kyoutani stops short like he’d just collided with her, ducking his head in some strange, unnecessary apology before he moves to another part of her house to continue his nightly sweep of the place. But every time he leaves a room, Yachi’s there and he keeps stumbling around her so he can finish, get outside, and take a breath.

Yachi has other ideas.

She bursts out laughing when he slides around her without touching, trying to get to the door quickly, but suddenly there’s a hand fisting into the back of his jacket. “Will you just—”

He stops, sweat prickling on the palms of his hands. He doesn’t turn around.

“Are you avoiding me?” Her tone is light.

“No.”

“You are a little.”

“No, I’m not,” he replies, more severe than he intended.

“Kyoutani.” She draws out the sounds of his name. “Can you just turn around for a moment?” She lets go of his jacket.

He’s motionless, wondering why this of all things has reduced him to a timid mess. He barrels through everything in life, but now he can’t even turn around without taking a breath first to steady himself. When he does, Yachi’s looking up at him, her cheery composure slipping.

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, of course not.”

At that, a little grin stretches across her lips. “Am I making you nervous?”

“No.”

Her grin grows wider. “Because you make me nervous.”

Kyoutani can’t stop his eyes from flying open wider. “Why?”

He watches Yachi’s eyes search his face for something as she pulls her lips to one side. After a moment, she asks, “Do you want to kiss me?”

His pulse quickens, his chest feels tighter. “Yes.”

“Good.” She twists her fingers in his denim jacket and pulls him down. He has half a second to make a startled sound before her lips find his.

Yachi leads the kiss and slowly Kyoutani lets his eyes fall shut, lets himself lean into it. She’s relaxed beside him, but his own body is tense because he’s warring within himself—to surrender to the feeling or run away to avoid rushing in and ruining everything?

Then Yachi’s lips part against his, her breath hot against his mouth, and his mind empties. His body works on instinct now as he curls one hand behind her head, drinking down the soft sigh that escapes her when he does, and lets himself kiss her like he’s dreamed about in those brief moments before he told himself to forget about wanting this.

His other arm wraps around her waist, tugging her closer as her arms slide around his sides and up his back. He’s hungry and messy with his touch, but Yachi soothes him, guides them into something slower but no less passionate. In the brief moments when they part, they breathe heavily against one another’s lips before they’re connected again.

Yachi hums, something deep and rumbling in her throat, and her hands at his back grip in so tight he can feel her fingers through his thick denim. He thinks of her sharp, yellowed eyes and the way she could knock a man down in one hit and groans. At the sound, Yachi nips at his bottom lip. She licks along the seam of his mouth before pressing in. She’s warm and sweet and another groan rumbles up from his chest.

He returns in kind, the simmering heat that’s been below his skin for days now starting to boil over. He likes her hair between his fingers, loves the sensation of her hands clawing at his back. He’s surprised when he feels the back of his hand hit the wall, surprised that they’re now crowded in Yachi’s entryway, her back against her front door. His pulse is a drumbeat in his ears, the prickling itches he’s gotten around her lately giving way to a heat that courses through his veins. He takes his fill as their mouths try to taste all that they can.

Seeking more, his hand slips lower on her waist, slips just below the waistband of her soft sweats. Yachi gasps against his lips and he pulls back like he’s been burnt.

“Sorry. I should go,” he says quickly, his heart racing for another reason now.

“Kyoutani,” his name is breathless on her lips and it only hardens his resolve.

“I need to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Her body sinks into itself, shoulders slumping, voice thick with concern. “Are you—”

“Fine,” he interrupts sharply, angry with himself for ruining the moment, for putting that look on her face, but all he knows is he needs to leave. He has no experience with taking things slow, like he wants to, and he’s not going to ruin this. Not when there is something to ruin. He’s never cared like this before so he’s not going to let himself lose control and get carried away.

Even though he would really, really like to let himself get carried away, get to see what else deliciously dangerous lurks below her surface.

He forces his face to relax out of a scowl, tries to make his tone lighter. He succeeds. A little. “It’s okay. I just need to go.” And he knows, even in that moment, that it’s not enough, but it’s all he can offer now.

“Okay,” Yachi replies, her expression more confused now but no less worried.

He groans softly out of frustration with himself, shuts his eyes, then presses a soft kiss to her forehead, hoping his actions will say the rest. “Good night, Yachi,” he whispers against her blonde hair.

“Good night,” she replies, “I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” He breathes in the scent of her, close and calming, as she tugs him in for a tight hug before he walks out the door and slowly shuts it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the duality of Yachi. I like imagining what she was like the night before, just pacing and stress eating cheeseburgers. Bless.  
> And the duality of Kyoutani, for that matter. Little emotionally constipated bean. Bless him, too.  
> But wooooooooooo, their date and a happy ending (and a bit of spice) will be in the last chapter next week!


	5. Maybe having a pack is what I needed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! They finally get to be together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna skip the E for any reason and just get some good ol' fashioned making out, you can pause at the section that ends with “But I’m not gonna let our first time be on the couch.” And then pick back up at "There’s only a second to enjoy the glow before—"

“You gotta promise.” Yachi suddenly looks very serious when he pops back out from her bedroom door. “When we come back out, it’s not just ‘after work hanging out’ anymore. It’s our ‘inside date.’ Okay?”

With a curt nod, he agrees and she disappears behind her bedroom door to get ready for their  _ inside date _ .

Kyoutani’s jittery when he shuts the door to Yachi’s guest bedroom behind him. He slings his gym bag on the bed and hopes the clothes he brought aren’t wrinkled beyond hope. He was awake late and up early because he couldn’t stop thinking about what to do, what to wear and wishing he had nicer clothes. Fashionable ones. Something stylish because Yachi is a stylish person. He thinks. Or at least he feels that way when she bounces around the set in her nice outfits for scenes or even when the day’s done and she’s in a sweatshirt and ordering a huge steak for herself. She’s  _ something _ , and whatever it is, Kyoutani decidedly is not the same.

He only owns two pairs of black slacks and a handful of button-downs for work. Aside from that, he has his favorite denim jacket, a few pairs of old jeans, and a sea of well-worn, often ripped band shirts. His bag currently contains one extra button-down, one nicer band shirt, clean slacks, and a pair of jeans, just in case. He looks at the lump of clothes in the bag while his hands come up to scratch at his scalp. What combination of these things would be  _ nice _ ?

He agonizes over it until he’s worried that he’s taking way too long, so he throws on a clean, light blue button-down and his jeans that have holes in them, but they’re fashionable holes. That’s a thing, he assures himself.

There’s a similar fight in the bathroom mirror when he wishes he could do anything to make his slightly grown-out buzz look any different, but there isn't. Staring at the man on the other side, he tries to practice making his face do something different than it normally does. For a moment, he tries to see himself how Yachi might.

Honestly, he has no idea what she sees. Kyoutani sees someone with a permanent scowl and bleach blond hair. He’s kept this look since high school because he liked the edge it gave him and how it kept strangers beyond arm’s length, but now he wants to pull his face into something softer, make his smile look genuine and not like someone else awkwardly pasted it on there.

He splashes water on his face to get rid of the red he saw creeping up from his collar, looks in the mirror, and tells himself, “Get your shit together, idiot.”

The second he steps out of the guest room, though, he knows there’s no chance of pulling himself together. Hearing the door creak open, Yachi twirls around and beams at him, her dark blue dress flaring out around her knees like she’s in one of those drama scenes and not lighting a candle while standing in her dining room. Her shoulders are bare, her hair is pinned up, and Kyoutani thinks he could never match this. Yachi’s nice, but she’s also  _ nice _ , like formal nice. Like get on a private jet and fly somewhere fancy  _ nice _ .

And Kyoutani is just—just Kyoutani.

“Well, don’t you look cool,” she says with a bashful smile, her gaze travelling down the length of his body.

“You look perfect.” The words slip free before he can catch them, but he truly wouldn’t have held them back. It’s the only thing that fits right now. Kyoutani’s breaths are ragged and shallow, but he doesn’t look away. Thinking of the permanent frown he sees in the mirror, he keeps her gaze and tries his best to smile, too, to let go and just try.

Yachi’s eyes meet his across the room and he watches her chest rise and falls on a deep breath. 

When the corners of her eyes crinkle with how wide her smile grows, he thinks he might’ve done fine this time. He can keep trying.

“I’ve worked hard over a hot stove all day to, well, call and order from that steakhouse we like—”

The “we” makes his face relax, the smile comes a bit easier.

“And it’s all ready, if you’d like to,” she pauses, biting her lower lip, her eyes still on him, “join me. Table. At my table.”

Kyoutani’s never one to say several words when only a few will do, and just like any other day, Yachi fills the silence between them, chatting animatedly as they take their seats across from one another at the dark, lacquered wood table she hardly ever uses.

As much as Yachi’s presence makes his hand shake when he picks up his fork, or makes his voice sound strained when it’s caught behind the lump in his throat, it’s somehow comfortable being here with her, too. Yachi just does that. She smiles and bumbles around, pulls people into her world with her charm—pulls Kyoutani into her space where everything is a bit brighter. Even if it’s confusing as hell.

“—and so the writing team had to do all these rewrites because  _ the queen  _ demanded them—can’t wait to not work with her again—but it actually worked out for me because—” Yachi pauses, abandoning her fork mid-sentence to pick up the rest of her steak with her hands.

Kyoutani laughs gruffly as his eyes track the motion and he feels a warm flush up his neck.

“I guess that wasn’t very  _ date-like _ of me.” She laughs, too, and starts to put it back down.

“No, don’t stop,” Kyoutani interjects, reaching across the table before he quickly pulls his arm back. He feels a warm flush on his neck threatening to rise further as he replays the words in his head. “I mean, you can do what you want,” he huffs, “‘cause I don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind if I eat like a wolf?”

“No,” he adds with a forced shrug.

“Do you  _ like _ when I eat like a wolf?”

The tone in her voice surprises him and he watches as Yachi’s finger thoughtfully traces along her bottom lip, a glint in her eyes.

He opens his mouth, but no reply comes. Instead he sits there, mouth agape, pinned under her gaze and feeling heat prickle down his chest, quickly rushing further down. Faced with the constant contradictions of all that is Yachi, he holds his breath as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and slowly lets it fall.

She laughs again but it does nothing to relieve the tension he feels coiled within himself.

“Well good, ‘cause I like finally having someone else I can be myself with,” she says lightly, but there’s a weight in those words that starts to pull Kyoutani back to the present where he’s eating dinner—just dinner, he reminds himself.

“M’glad,” he mumbles.

“Hm?” She questions, but from the smirk on her lips, Kyoutani’s fairly certain she heard him.

“Just—” He shrugs again, slumping back against his chair and decidedly looking anywhere else besides her face. “It’s good you told me. And that I don’t care. You know, about the wolf stuff.”

Yachi laughs again but it fades into a soft sigh. “I’m glad you don’t care, too, you know  _ about the wolf stuff _ ,” she says the last bit in a lower tone of voice, as though to mimic him.

He finally glances back up. The steak is back in her hands and she grins at him right before she tears into her food with ravenous abandon.

This time Kyoutani doesn’t laugh. He watches, transfixed and surprised by the heat rolling through his veins at the sight.

***

Kyoutani doesn’t have a lot of moves—okay he has none, usually he picks up people at the bar with a crude, blunt invitation—but he has seen movies and he works on the set of a romantic drama everyday. So, when they’re on Yachi’s couch watching a thriller she picked out, he does the “yawn and stretch” and wraps his arm around her shoulders.

Yachi laughs softly and leans into him, pressing herself into the space he made for her. In the seconds right after, he wants to enjoy all the lustful activities he’s typically enjoy when he’s at someone’s place, but he also just wants to sit here, rest his head on top of hers and ignore the movie while he closes his eyes and thinks about how tonight Yachi smells like warm vanilla. Without thinking much about it, he starts to gently run his fingers up and down her arm.

He’s doing exactly that, paying no attention to the suspenseful music ramping up on Yachi’s TV, when he feels a hand on his thigh, palm down, thumb gently stroking along the fabric of his jeans, just above a rip. He freezes and Yachi snuggles closer under his arm until her cheek is resting on his chest.

Kyoutani doesn’t dare move for several seconds, and when he finally shifts to adjust himself along the back of the couch, he feels her body go stiff beside him. On the screen, there’s the loud sounds of a shootout between characters he forgot to pay attention to, but he can only hear Yachi’s sharp inhale. Her hand stops moving on his thigh, but she doesn’t pull it away.

The movie rolls steady along, one spy-filled room after another, but the two of them remain locked in a kind of tension that Kyoutani doesn’t know what to do with. His mind is running away with all the things he might have done wrong, so he does the only thing he can think of. “Sorry,” he mumbles, pulling his arm back and leaning away from her.

Yachi spins to face him. “Don’t,” she says hastily. Her eyes are wide, her breath shaky across his skin. “Don’t be sorry,” she adds quickly. “I mean, also don’t move away, unless you want to, that’s okay. I liked having you there, but you don’t have to stay there. Obviously. Your choice. But don’t be sorry. You know what? I’m sorry. I got all weird for a second there because I thought I had made you uncomfortable and, actually, I might have because—”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” His heart is pounding in his chest and his body feels warm and tense, coiled like a spring, but it’s not uncomfortable. 

Again, he watches her face contort with an impossible number of emotions in only a second. Then her words rush out of her. “I don’t know what you want. I know what I want, but I don’t know—you—about you. So, Kyoutani, what do you want?”

The simplest answer is the one that leaves his mouth. “I want you.”

“Yes, but  _ how _ ?”

“What? I—”

Her hands ball into fists in her lap. “I’m sorry for barreling through but, Kyoutani, I have had to watch you everyday since you showed up with that hot scowl, those muscles under your shirt, and that damn denim jacket. Everyday you intimidate everyone that messes with me, all these  _ excellent _ bad boy things going on, but then you’ll sit in the car, arms folded, looking all kinds of awkward and adorable. You’re so weird.”

She smiles fondly, one hand unfurling and gently pressing back against his leg. “You just, I don’t know, like me, and I didn’t think any human would.” Yachi gives his thigh a light squeeze, smile slipping into something a bit more wicked. “Also I am definitely way older than you think I am, we can talk about that later, but I am no small, delicate thing. You understand that. I even think you  _ like  _ that.”

Kyoutani inhales sharply.

Yachi leans her weight onto her hand, getting closer and pressing harder into his thigh. “Moments where I  _ want _ things, Kyoutani. I want to pull you down so you’ll kiss me until I can’t breathe. Making out against my door was amazing but  _ not enough _ .” She lets out a shuddered sigh, gaze drifting for a moment. “I want to drag you back to my bedroom and—but if you don’t want any of that, I will put a lid on it and shut it up tight because all of this is nice, too, I promise. I love cuddles and everything soft, but my god, I am about to burst.”

“Burst?”

“Yes.” Her voice is lower, face pressing closer to his with every passing second.

“I want that.”

“Which part?”

His words leave him in a rushed whisper. “All of it, Yachi. All of it.”

“Perfect answer.” Yachi scrambles onto her knees, the fabric of her dress rustling as she clumsily climbs halfway into his lap at an awkward angle, her knee digging into his thigh. But he can’t notice any of that, not when Yachi’s hands are tracing down his chest, curling into the nape of his neck. “Still good?”

He nods and the sound that rumbles out of him is low and greedy, but his hands still won’t move, won’t let him touch like he wants to. Kyoutani’s never been one to think through his decisions, it’s what gets him trouble, so of course the one time he chooses to overthink it’s potentially spoiling a moment with a woman he actually lo—likes.

She hovers there in front of him for a moment. Her eyes cut right through him and he feels horribly open and bare. It’s so much more intense than the physical touch he could get from anyone. Words can lie. But all this can’t. There’s truth in the way Yachi looks at him like he’s both important and like he’s prey about to be ravenously devoured. And he knows his own truth is written plain across his face as it settles into a mouth-open, dumbstruck expression.

Yachi smiles warmly and strokes her thumb along his jaw, gently tipping his head up. With their mouths nearly touching, she waits as though she’s seeking one last word from him to let her know it’s okay. 

So Kyoutani says the only thing he can manage as the heated seconds pass. In a raspy whisper, he asks for what he knows he needs.

“Please.”

At the first press of her lips, his entire body tenses, unsure and unsteady, but Yachi’s breaths against his lips, her hands on his skin—the softness and the strength of her—invites him to let go. Her lips melt against his with her hand at his neck tenderly guiding him in deeper. And this time, Kyoutani gives in fully.

This time it isn’t instinct that guides him, it’s desire, a want that floods his body every time Yachi’s hands explore another part of his skin. He grips into her waist and she lets out a pleasured hum against his skin. Her tongue skates across his bottom lip before her body presses closer and she coaxes his mouth open, tongue teasing along the seam of his lips. Hungrily, he parts for her and Yachi rushes into his mouth and she tastes like the strawberries they had with dessert.

His other hand comes up to rest on her bare arm, pulling her in, and Yachi slips fully into his lap, legs splayed across him. A deep groan slips out of him and he slides inside her waiting mouth to feel more of her, to kiss her deeper. His hand sweeps past her arm, up her back from where it’s exposed above her dress. Yachi’s lips part on a moan and the sound rushes through him, hot and demanding.

She tips over towards him, pressing him against the back of the couch as her chest rests against his. He can feel it now, all the powerful cords of muscle beneath her soft skin. Every part of her is wild and strong, silky soft and warm. She’s everything he never knew he could have. Her teeth catch on his bottom lip and his hips thrust up on their own, drawing another enticing sound from her lips.

His hand around her waist works slowly upwards as they kiss deeper, rougher. There’s teeth and heavy pants in between the moments when they crash together. His hand massages into the fabric as his hand slides higher. He gasps when his hand is just below her chest.

“Yes,” she sighs against him, her mouth dipping down to mouth along his jaw.

His breath is shaky and stuttering as he reaches up to feel her through her dress. Another soft moan escapes her and he feels Yachi settling more firmly into his lap, her weight pressing down, an unhurried roll in her hips.

He presses into her, his hands slipping the tight curls of her pinned-back hair loose so they start to fall around her face. She lets out a rumble, a growl from somewhere deep within her. Kyoutani feels it on his lips, through his hand caressing her breast in hopes of more. Yachi shifts her weight and they slowly tip down towards the couch cushions. Bravery and the need to have her closer has him leaning heavily into her, pushing them down quicker until her back hits the couch.

She looks up at him, eyes wide, pupils deep and black with sharp golden yellow encircling them. He realizes he’s positioned himself between her legs, one arm bracing himself on the back of the couch, the other beside her head. He swallows thickly, heart hammering in his chest. The mood is marching steadily towards sex. Yachi groans and wraps her legs around his back, pulling him closer and he stops. Stops moving. Stops breathing. Just stops.

“Kyoutani?”

He doesn’t answer. His body feels suddenly cold and miles away.

There’s a tender hand along his cheek and he turns away from it like it stung.

“Are you alright?”

He grits his teeth, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “Yes.”

“Then why do you do that? Always stop yourself?”

His heart seizes in his chest, breathing again but it’s choppy like he’s trying to gulp down air before the ocean swallows him whole. When he finds his voice it’s low but weak. “Because I don’t know if I’m doing things right, reading things right and I’ve never—never with someone I actually felt something for.”

Her face softens, the light brown returning to her eyes. “You really like me, huh?”

“A lot.”

“Well, you’re on top of me on my couch and I just hooked my legs around your back, so I highly doubt you’re reading anything incorrectly.”

“But—”

She gives him a leveled stare, one eyebrow raised. “If you were reading things wrong, if I didn’t want anything, don’t I have the strength to throw you into my kitchen from here?”

A shiver rolls down his spine. “Yeah.”

“So then let go, Kyoutani.” Her hand skates down his chest. “Because I want to see what happens.”

Because it feels like the right thing to do, he leans down to kiss her again, but his heart is stuttering in his chest and everything feels tight. No longer in a warm, welcoming way. Yachi kisses him back, beckoning him back into the heat they’ve just shared, but he is lost in his own body, wondering why it’s so hard for him, this opening up, letting this connection bloom into something else.

Yachi’s lips move against his own, but he hesitates, one thought running through his mind—”I don’t want to mess up. I can’t mess this up. I’m going to mess up.”

She pulls away quickly and Kyoutani realizes belatedly that those words, how many of them he’s not sure, were actually spoken against her lips.

“You won’t,” she says, running a hand along the back of his neck.

“What if I do?”

“I’ll probably think it’s cute or hot or something, like every other time you’ve stumbled over your words or blurted out something.”

Kyoutani laughs. He’s not sure where it comes from, but it rises up from somewhere deep inside him, then bursts out, genuinely content. He laughs until Yachi is joining him, her eyes crinkling in the corners as her arms wrap around him and tug him down to lie on top of her. She wraps her whole body around him in a giant hug until their laughter dies down.

Still holding onto him, she whispers against his ear, “I didn’t really ask what you wanted, not in so many words. Do you even want to have sex?”

“Fuck yes,” he says too loudly for how close they are. “Do you—”

“Yes.” She runs her fingers up the short hairs at the back of his head. “But I’m not gonna let our first time be on the couch.”

***

With the lights dimmed and heat pooling between his legs, Kyoutani lets Yachi shove him back on her bed. His shirt is open and he definitely lost a button or two when she gave up on undoing them correctly in her haste to move things forward. He wasn’t even embarrassed at the groan that slipped out of him when she ripped the rest open.

In the low light from her lamp, Kyoutani watches her eyes flash golden again. He shudders.

“Shirt off,” she growls and Kyoutani’s never followed an order that quickly in his life before. He tosses the blue button-down on the floor and starts pulling at the button and zipper on his jeans.

“You can lose those, too.” She’s clearly the one in charge and Kyoutani wants it, needs it. Someone to yank him free of every bad experience he’s had, steal his mind from him and make him let go. He shakes as he throws his jeans somewhere, thinking of her piercing yellow eyes, the bulging muscles when she partially shifted that night. A whimper escapes his throat.

Yachi laughs, the sound low. “I know you like the wolf,” she starts, eyeing him as he fumbles with his boxers, “but which side of me are you hoping to see tonight?”

“The wolf,” he answers immediately, his boxers catching on one foot before he awkwardly tosses them to the floor, too. “And you! Both. God,” he moans, head momentarily tipping back, “I want both.”

“Another perfect answer. Not all of the wolf tonight, of course. But a little. Just for you.” She prowls towards him and stops, reaching out her hands to dig into the hard muscle on his chest. “Mmm, I’ve wanted to touch you for weeks.” Those hands trace up to his shoulders and shove him back with a power that makes him hit the bed with a bounce.

Propped on his elbows he watches, heart pounding his body humming with anticipation, as Yachi slowly unzips her dress from the side. Kyoutani stares at each smooth curve of perfect skin as it’s slowly revealed, the dress sliding down her body until the fabric pools at her feet. He tears his eyes away long enough to witness a sharp smirk on Yachi’s face, as though she’s basking in his dumbstruck gaze, and the rest of her layers quickly join her dress on the floor.

Yachi’s mouth parts and two growing fangs slip past her bottom lip, sinking into the bitten-red skin. “You ready?”

Kyoutani nods silently, his breath already ragged.

“I want you to say it.”

“Yes!” He shouts.

She looks pleased, wild as she pushes his legs together, fingernails gripping into the meat of his thighs, his waist while she climbs onto the bed and hovers just above him. Kyoutani’s cock twitches to life against his leg. He waits for the touch that will set him ablaze, but it doesn’t come. Not right away. Yachi seems to take him in for one final moment.

The yellow in her eyes fades to brown. The fangs retreat slightly. “If it’s too much—”

“I’ll tell you. Promise. Promise!” He yells again, wanting everything,  _ everything _ Yachi wants to give him. For a second, he remembers himself, who he can be when he’s not reduced to a puddle at her feet, and he smirks back. “You’ve seen me. I can take it.”

The return to the emerging wolf is instant. Yachi tumbles against him and he falls back under her weight. Her lips claim his and he feels those growing fangs nick his skin. Her hands are a powerful force against him, gripping into him hard and moving his body to where she wants him as though he weighs nothing. He holds onto her, eager to feel every inch of her skin under his palms, and he can’t swallow the moan that escapes at the ripple of her hard muscles under his touch.

She growls and lowers her head to suck and scrape her teeth along his chest. The touch is gentle but insistent, and he knows he’s at her mercy, that those teeth could tear his flesh like paper in an instant if she wanted. The fear, the submission, stokes the fire coursing through his entire body. He reaches out to tangle his fingers in her hair and pulls when he feels a fang press in slightly harder.

He feels a low laugh against his skin and then she’s lowering her body down, her soft stomach against his cock. The hot press of her body makes him grit his teeth so hard his jaw aches. He stares at her in awe, more turned on than he’s ever felt in his life.

A fang shallowly pierces the skin and a new flash of fear ripples through his body, making his hips drive up as his cock aches for more, anything more.

Yachi kisses up his neck, along his jaw, more hot, open-mouthed kisses than scrapes of her fangs now. When her mouth hovers above his own, he surges into her, desperate to seal them together again, to taste her desire on her tongue, to glide his tongue along the sharper teeth in her mouth.

She tastes different now as they start to move together, still sweet but there’s something grounding, comforting even in its wildness, like wet earth under a moonlit sky. Yachi rolls against him, her peaked nipples against his chest and he can’t hold back the instinctual buck in his hips.

Gradually she shifts her body higher, kissing along the side of his face, lifting herself higher until her breasts brush against his lips. He needs no direction. Kyoutani slides his hands up her back and licks along the soft flesh. Above him, Yachi lets out a heavy sigh and he flicks his tongue across her nipple before gently sucking her into his eager mouth. She wraps an arm around the back of his head, pressing him further against her until Yachi surrounds him. Her chest heaving with heavy panting breaths that spur him on.

He takes his time, speaking his praise and adoration with his tongue, with the grip of his hands into her back. His own cock hangs desperate between his legs but he could stay here for hours, smothered by her scent of her, of her body against his own.

Yachi has other ideas. She sits up and looks down at him, eyes nearly entirely golden now. But the smile on her lips is oddly sweet around the more pronounced fangs. “I’d kiss you again but I’m not about to maim my boyfriend.”

His hands still on her back, face freezes. “Your what?”

“Boyfriend,” she repeats quietly. “Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head, not sure where his voice has gone.

“I’m glad.” She pulls his hands free from her back and winds her fingers through his own as they settle against the sheets. “I’d like to kiss you, though.”

“Do it.”

“Even with these?” She runs the tip of her tongue along one of her fangs.

He shivers below her and she smirks as though that’s answer enough. The press of her lips is tentative at first, but she holds his hands tighter in her own and tries to work back up to what they had. Her body shakes with the effort of holding back whenever Kyoutani groans and slides his tongue along a fang before licking her lips and sinking back in. She lets him guide the kiss, lets him do as much as he wants as she trembles and growls as she holds the wolf back.

But the danger boils his blood, makes his hips jump and his cock twitch in anticipation. He slips a hand between their slowly rocking bodies, the sweat-slick skin, and dips lower until his fingertips lightly graze along her heat.

Yachi breaks free from the kiss with a gasp, pulling her head back and letting out a moan that rumbles through her body into him. She bolts upright and he mourns the loss of connection between them until she starts to shift her body up along his chest until her knees are just below his outstretched arms.

Her eyes are feral now, something foreign and fierce, and she swallows around a groan in her throat. She breaks eye contact only to lift herself and settle her knees higher, pressing closer as he groans. He can feel what’s next, his mouth watering as she leans her body, her heat closer to his waiting mouth.

She stills above him and hands cup her ass, pulling her in. He darts out his tongue for his first taste of her. Above him, Yachi lets out a primal growl and he dives in, knowing he’s too sloppy, too hungry, licking at her like a starving man. In time he’ll learn to give her what she wants from him, but for now he’ll do his best. He licks at her folds and hums at the taste of her, sweet and sticky on his tongue.

The hand behind his head shudders and then there’s the press of sharper nails, the first touch of claws lightly scraping along his scalp. He slides his tongue over her, faster, harder, seeking places that he can press the firm of his tongue against and please her like he wants to.

“Higher,” she tells him, and her voice is gravelly. He does as he’s told, wanting to draw more sounds from her body. “Lighter, not so hard, and faster, there—” Her claws dig in. “There, there, don’t stop.” Slowly she starts to rock her hips against his tongue, a moan mingling with the growls in her throat. With her praise and breathless demands making his want run thick and hot through his veins, he works his tongue until his mouth is tired, until his spit and her slick drips down the side of his face.

A louder growl fills the air and she pulls back. Fear laced with pleasure shakes through his body as he takes her in as she is now. Her face is still that of a human, but her features have changed. Her eyes have narrowed, glowing yellow. Her tongue is longer and darts out to lick along her protruding fangs. Her muscles are subtly more defined across her body.

Her head tips back and howls, sounding more like the wolf than before. “You make it hard to hold back.” Her voice has changed, too. Deeper, laced with need. Her muscles clench beneath his palms.

“Then don’t.”

“I have to.” She still won’t look at him.

He lifts his back up from the bed and stretches his neck to press his lips against her skin, trailing his lips along her chest until he whispers. “I trust you. Let go. Show me all of you.”

That elongated tongue slides across her fangs and then those golden, inhuman eyes pin him in place. Yachi is still in there, somewhere, but the wolf has won for the moment. There’s no more words, only want as she rolls her body back, takes his cock in hand, and teases herself with the tip of it. He groans, biting his sore lip as she rubs him through her folds, her head falling back on another heated howl. Her powerful thighs flex when she moves her hips, dragging his cock against her, harder this time, before she sinks down in one quick, controlled motion.

He cries out and grips his hands into her hip, her thigh, pleasure ripping through him as her heat swallows him. Yachi lets out a gasp, her hands falling to his chest, the tips of her claws digging in and threatening to draw blood. He swears as she starts to move, rocking back and forth on his cock.

Kyoutani wants to watch her, wants to be overcome by the sight before him, but his eyes shut tight against his will, the back of head pressing hard against the bed. He draws his knees up behind her back, his feet firmly on the bed, and tries to rise up to meet the steady rhythm of her hips. She grinds down on him harder in response, swallowing his cock deeper inside her. Their panting breaths, his groans, her deep growls mixing in the space between their bodies. He feels the sting of fresh cuts on his chest as Yachi starts to lose the last of her control.

His body is a livewire, blood thrumming in his veins as her clawed hand scrapes down his chest, harder than before. Pain shoots through him and he cries out, knowing he won’t last much longer. Not with Yachi moving like that, not with the moans dripping from her lips, not with the lines of her strong, beautiful body before him.

He feels himself drawing up tight, and he shouts something like warning, but Yachi laughs and quickens her pace, trying to meet his now-erratic thrusts with her body. 

Just as he begins to feel himself tipping over the edge, Yachi’s growls give way to a soft, shattered moan. She falls forward, claws and fangs retreating, and pulls Kyoutani’s hands into her own, lacing their fingers together as the back of his hands push into the bed.

“Kentarou,” she moans and it’s enough to push him over the edge.

He comes with a swear on his lips that melts into her name. He grips her hands tightly as his hips buck into her, his body shuddering with his release.

Still rocking, she milks his cock for all it’s worth. He stills in the aftermath of his release and forces his eyes open to see Yachi with her head forward, nearly at his chest, her blonde hair cascading around her as she rolls her hips and chases her own pleasure.

When she comes, she looks up, gorgeous and fierce, golden eyes locking with his as the warmth of her rushes around his cock.

There’s only a second to enjoy the glow before—

“Oh my god!” Yachi gasps with wide eyes, the yellow fading quickly back to brown. “Your chest. Sorry! Sorry I—Oh, I hurt you. You’re bleeding!”

He strokes a thumb along the back of her hand still in his. “I don’t mind.”

“How could you not? I mean, there’s blood—” As she worries, the rest of the wolf is pulled back inside with every passing second. “I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t mean to. Let me go get--”

“Don’t go.” The desperation in his tone surprises him.

Yachi grows quiet and concern gives way to warmth. Tiredly she rolls to one side and he feels cold when his spent cock slips free. That chill is short-lived, though, because Yachi curls up along his side, her head tucked against his neck. He rolls onto his side and wraps both arms around her, holding her close. Her own arm around his waist, she wiggles into the spot under his chin and he can feel her drawing soft lines on his chest.

“The cuts aren’t deep.” He says.

“I know, but I still feel bad.”

“You controlled it though.”

Her hand stops moving and she gasps quietly. “I did, didn’t I?” She hums quietly. “Maybe having a pack is what I needed.”

Yachi pulls a blanket over top of them and together they float somewhere in between being awake and the pull of sleep until Yachi breaks the comforting stillness, her tone hushed.

Yachi yawns, her legs stretching out long. “We should probably shower. I am—I got sweaty.”

Kyoutani puffs out a laugh against her blonde hair. “Mm, me too.”

“Did you bring other clothes?”

“Like sleeping clothes? I didn’t plan on staying and I sleep naked so, no.”

Yachi lifts her head. “Well that’s pleasant information to know.” She laughs softly. “But also I was hoping I could wear one of your shirts to bed. You know, after  _ we _ take a nice shower.”

He runs his fingers through her hair and feels a smile tug on the corner of his lips. 

It’s going to be hard to fall asleep tonight with his heart doing weird things in his chest, but maybe it’ll be just fine lying there and listening to Yachi breathe. Maybe that will be perfect.

***

When morning comes, it begins like all of their other ones together—late and rushed. Yachi starts to jump out of bed, but Kyoutani holds her back, burying his face against her back.

“Not yet.”

He can hear the smile in her voice. “We’re going to be late.”

“So?”

She chuckles. “I’d like to not be.”

“We always are though and—” He thinks of how Yachi looked in his arms while she slept and his chest feels tight. “I don’t know.”

She turns in his arms and he glances up. “Maybe I can make us some coffee first, then.”

“I can make breakfast,” he adds slowly.

“You can cook?” Her eyes widen, excitement written all over her face.

“Eggs. I can make eggs. And toast.”

Her hand traces lazy circles on his arm. “I don’t even know if I have either of those things, but we can figure something out, right?”

He nods and holds her closer to his chest. The morning, the day, everything that’s not in this bed can wait a few more minutes.

***

They keep everything a secret at work. During the day they are every bit the same as before, spare a few stolen kisses in her dressing room that leave him feeling flushed.

But in the evenings, everything’s changed and slowly all the knots inside Kyoutani’s heart, all the parts of him that got twisted and bent along the way, start to unravel.

When they share meals now, Kyoutani talks more. Yachi brightens at everything he offers of himself, even if it’s just telling her about the tomato plants he cared for in his backyard when he was young.

He still returns home some nights, but it gets harder and harder to leave Yachi’s apartment. Especially since his apartment is still old and gross. And empty. Lonely like it hadn’t felt before.

At night they’ll watch TV to wind down after dinner, but they often fall asleep tucked together on her couch. Kyoutani, the lighter sleeper, is usually the one that wakes up first. Carefully he’ll pick her up and tuck her into her side of the bed before curling alongside her. He sleeps better now than he has in years.

Kyoutani secretly starts to study recipes on his phone during downtimes in the day. The first time he cooks for her it’s a disaster, but they manage to make some of it edible before they order takeout for the rest of their dinner. He promises to keep trying. Yachi tells him she can’t wait.

And days when there’s no filming are the best. They sleep in late and Yachi laughs about what “the pack” should do that day. Usually they spend more time in her bed than out of it, sleeping too long or engaging in Kyoutani’s favorite parts of the wolf, but there’s also hours spent attempting to bake the things Yachi watches on TV or figuring out new ridiculous disguises for Yachi so they can go on an actual date.

Weeks pass and Yachi’s filming schedule begins to wind down. It reminds him that he’s going to have to tell Iwaizumi at some point, especially when Yachi extends his contract.

“Why would I get somebody else?” She asks during their ride to her home one night. “I have a boyfriend and a bodyguard in one. Simple. Good.”

Her optimism lifts his spirits but Kyoutani doesn’t think it’ll be that simple, actually.

It’s how he finds himself back in Iwaizumi’s office, sitting in the same chair where he always got told off for getting fired. His arms are crossed, but he’s sweating through the back of his shirt.

Iwaizumi’s typing on his computer, not sparing Kyoutani a glance, when he says, “So, looks like you’re not getting fired. I’m impressed.” He turns, steepling his fingertips and narrowing his eyes. “I mean, it’s the bare minimum to expect from you.”

Kyoutani grunts to show he’s heard him.

“But I do suspect there’s something else. You’re far—” He takes a moment to choose his words. “Tamer than before.”

Kyoutani doesn’t give up the truth easily. Iwaizumi has to verbally poke and prod, glare at Kyoutani from his desk before he finally admits everything.

He’s stunned when all Iwaizumi does is shrug. “As long as it doesn’t negatively impact your work, I do not care in the slightest. Stay sharp and don’t let your guard down.”

Kyoutani sits up in his chair. “Yes, sir.”

“But stop wearing that denim jacket when you’re on the job. It makes us look cheap.”

***

By the time Yachi is accepting her next acting role several weeks later, Kyoutani’s things are all in Yachi’s guest room and his old apartment with the horrible mattress is just a bad memory.

Yachi was embarrassed to ask him to move in. “My instincts as an Alpha tell me to keep you close. I know it’s weird, but—”

“I’ll get my things tonight.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” He’d smiled then, glad that the gesture didn’t feel so out of place on his own face anymore.

More of her wolf traits start to show after “her pack” moves in. In public, he feels like he’s the one being guarded and he’s reminded that Yachi is not just a werewolf, but an Alpha. His Alpha, now. The thought always sends heat pooling south that he promises to handle properly later.

She also starts stocking her fridge and buying him clothes, whatever else he needs because “an Alpha provides for her pack.” And she’s so thrilled about it, he can never say no. Not even when she’s insisting on checking every window and door again before bed for his protection.

Her new contract starts soon and Kyoutani knows these lazier days will soon be over. During the break the two wolves that came in through her window the night of the attack come over to size him up. The bouncy one, Hinata, seems to take him quickly enough now that Yachi has fully welcomed him But the other, Tsukishima, who only smiles for Yachi, still seems to hate him. It’s fine, though, because even the snarky blond refers to him as “her pack” now and those words fill Kyoutani’s heart with a sense of belonging he hasn’t known in decades.

No, this break won’t last forever and this calm won’t last forever. Time to celebrate it while it’s still here.

Kyoutani yawns and stretches on the couch, jostling Yachi beside him, and tells her he’ll be back soon and heads to the nearest grocery store.

The people in her neighborhood still side-eye him, but he knows he belongs here now. If not in this uptight neighborhood, he at least belongs in Yachi’s home.

He takes his time in the store, checking the list he made several times to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Kyoutani picked  _ Steak au Poivre  _ because it was French and French things are fancy, but honestly it’s just pepper steak with a boozy sauce. Either way, he’s going to make it right. He’s been getting better.

When he gets back, Yachi is sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand. She pops up from the couch, eyes sparkling delightedly when she sees the grocery bags. “Oh, what are we having tonight?”

“Steak au po--steak au porvuh. French steak.”

Yachi laughs, and the sound is no less perfect than it was months ago. “Well, you know what you need then.” She dashes ahead of him into the kitchen and he knows what she’s gone to get. He sets down the groceries in preparation and squats low to the ground, his head slightly bowed.

Yachi darts back out, his cooking apron in hand. She gleefully wraps it around his neck and ties it around his back. It’s an overly adorable thing, but Kyoutani likes it because Yachi likes it. The fabric is dotted with woodland animals, but Yachi picked it out because among the others are tiny, cute wolves.

“There. My bad boy chef is all ready now!”

In the kitchen they move around one another in a well-coordinated dance. He works and Yachi flitters beside him, trying to watch everything he does and by the end of it, his chest puffs with pride over the dishes he places on their table.

Yachi’s eyes light up at the finished dish and she beams over at him. “What on earth would I do without you?” She says it lightly but the words hit him square in the chest.

He stares at her across the table, his hands in his lap, a bittersweet feeling rushing up his throat as he considers what exactly he would’ve been without her.

He pinches his brows and meets her gaze across the table, giving voice to a question that’s been on his tongue for weeks now. “Hitoka, will you ever bite me?”

“W-what?” She sputters.

“Bite me. Turn me, too.”

Her shoulders slump and his body tenses, waiting for the sting of rejection that always comes, but he hopes it won’t.

Yachi stares at something behind him, her eyes lost in a thousand-yard stare before she sighs and focuses back on him. Her words come slow, a weight behind them when she speaks. “It’s a big decision, Kentarou. One you can’t take lightly. You know I was at death’s door when I asked for Daichi’s help. I don’t want you to take this on without knowing everything. You have to be sure.”

“I’m sure about you.” He knows nothing that honest and true has ever spilled from his heart before. Vulnerable and open, he waits.

There’s a spark in her eyes, a flash of golden yellow. “Give me a few years to think about it.” A smirk plays at the corner of her mouth.

“Years?” He shouts.

“Yes, years,” she says firmly, but her seriousness fades into a soft smile. “But just so you know, I’m sure about you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER.  
> Yachi does bite him, of course, and Kyoutani loves being a wolf (also of course). They grow the pack over the years, and there's more new wolves to love, but Kyoutani's forever the one right by her side always.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear what you think their lives were like as they grew as a pack! (And any thoughts on the Karasuno pack, too! I have a BUNCH of notes about it that didn't make it in to the fic, but uh, they do exist.)
> 
> Thank you for reading and appreciating the joys of wolf!Yachi with me. (And soft boy!Kyoutani.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this niche little rarepair fic! It's started as a friend chat that mixed a love for werewolves with kyouyachi (because have you SEEN @finnthebunneh's art of them?!!?!!!? love love love), then we sprinkled in some bodyguard/celebrity AU because LET'S DO ALL THE THINGS! SELF-INDULGENCE!
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks make me smile! (And I always reply to comments...even if it takes me a while!)
> 
> Chat with me on Twitter - [@HeyMellieJellie](https://twitter.com/HeyMellieJellie). I scream about haikyuu a lot.


End file.
